A spellbinding read. This poetic narrative of love, life, connection, depression, death and hope follows a garden, it‘s inhabitants, and it‘s caretakers through the seasons of a year. Every time I revisit it I am left feeling awed at the tapestry of life in which I participate, from the smallest to largest scale.
My April reading round-up.
Some months I'm not so much a bookworm as a one-woman plague of locusts. 😮
That feeling (unnerving at first but then increasingly joyous) when there's no denying that a poet is plucking the same string that you yourself are!
There is a woman. There is a (distinctly peripheral) man. There is a garden. There are eloquent flowers. There is the absence/presence of God. And all of them communing with each other and, for the most part it seems, failing to get through.
It's a stunning book, and one I'll return to many times.
#FreakyFriday #FreakyFridaychallenge @monalyisha @Clwojick
My word is birches.
This poem is freaky indeed! I planted birches (my favourite tree) in the garden when we moved here and am given to having silent conversations with them.
I am loving this book, @LectricSheep 😍
Also featured, the gorgeous bookmark that @mhillis sent me.
#FunFridayPhoto: poetry I'm #thankful for. All of these have nourished my soul at one time or another. Hey World, Here I Am! was the first book that made me wish a character was real so we could be friends. I felt like I knew Kate- that she MUST exist out there somewhere. The Wild Iris is full of poems that speak God to me and help me speak myself to God. And Red Suitcase reminds me of how much good there is in humanity. I 💜 Naomi Shihab Nye.