You all know by now I am a self proclaimed book sl_ t. Same goes for plants, fabrics, and sometimes shoes. But books, books are by far my biggest addiction and so far no intervention has worked. Not that anyone tried very hard, I think my friends and family are worried about what I might do if they actually tried to cut me off…from books. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure.
I actually get a bit of a high from handling new books. From getting them in the mail. From buying them. There is a moment, when I have a big bag of new books, and magazines, and I drag them into the house and onto the bed, and lay them all out to marvel and admire them- that is the moment I am overcome by a giddy high.
This is not unlike the giddy feeling I get from the first sip of white wine on an autumn evening, sitting on the patio, looking at the blue of the sky and the gold of the setting sun on the Owyhees through my glass of chardonnay. We probably shouldn’t even talk about combining the two events. It would send me over the edge.
So, gentle reader, imagine my delight at being laden with a (new) running list of books which (of course) had to be purchased straight away as evidence of my undying love and devotion to my fellow plant-geek-garden-writing friends. Writers are generally voracious readers and this group has a characteristically insatiable lust for books.
First, my two cents worth which will actually cost you about forty-five bucks should you purchase these lovelies. This is my contribution to the list for Scott, Dee, Susan, David, Debra, Carleen and Gwen.
Flower by Christopher Beane is a sight to behold. One look at this book and you know there is a higher power. Way higher. Beane’s and his work has been described as the love child of Robert Mapplethorpe and Georgia O’Keefe. The photos of the peonies and the iris still take my breath away. They made me want to quit painting flowers because I knew there was no better way to portray them than the way they were offered up in this book.
Next up: Ms. Booth’s Garden, a loving look at a beloved grandmother from rural Tennessee/Mississippi. Jack Kotz pays homage to this regal woman and the world around her. I want to write a book like this. And I’d like to write it about my grandmother, my shining light and garden inspiration. But I can’t take the same kind of photos – my grandmother passed away in 1974.
A gift from my friend David, The Wild Braid. I have posted my favorite piece of prose from the Braid on Muse Day, October 1st, titled “The Layers.” I especially love the last two sentences which, speak straight to my heart:
“Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.”
Stanley Kunitz passed away at the age of 100. He was a poet laureate of the United States; an eloquent, elegant man.
Of course, I have a couple more to share. But you will have to come back tomorrow to see what they might be. Think of it this way, like turning the page….