Long-ago, favorite reads…

Now and then, I’ll glance over at the books resting on the shelves in my home office and make a mental note to sit down and re-read one, or more, of my favorites.  Many have been stockpiled for reference material, others, well they just bring back memories of having enough time to sit and allow words and pages help me embark on a much-needed escape.

Then, tucked away in the attic are so many favorite childhood books that we often hang onto.  At least I do. 

Just picking them up takes me back to those simpler times I often write about.  Years ago, grabbing a book was all most of us had, after homework and chores were done and the offerings on television were one or two shows before bedtime.  And yes, how many of us did late reading under the bed-covers, with a flashlight?  Of course, when certain book reading was mandated in school, along with what seemed like those endless book reports, it easily became a chore.  But, for me,  there were stories nestled in between the pages of a few tattered hardcovers that captured my imagination, transported me to distant places, distant times and…brought tears to my eyes.

So, up in a corner of my attic, in a box marked “books” (of course) are a few of my childhood favorites…

The Bobbsey Twins at Snow Lodge…by Laura Lee Hope

Three Golden Rivers…by Olive Price

Cherry Ames, Cruise Nurse…by Helen Wells

Paintbox Summer…by Betty Cavanna

Favorite Stories for Girls…by May Hollis Barton

Death Be Not Proud…by John Gunther

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While writing this, I promised myself that I will sit down outside in our gazebo and read each one of these again.  All I need is the next available quiet afternoon that comes my way.   And, if that doesn’t happen, it’s under the bed-covers with my flashlight once more…for old times sake.

 

 

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My Writing Prompt response to:  Create a list of some of your favorite childhood books.                                

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A summer view…

There is quite a bit of history, here in Putnam County, New York.  Those living down county, closer to Manhattan often call this “upstate” but we are barely at the tip of what is truly…upstate New York and the majestic beauty which lies beyond the Catskill Mountains up to the Adirondacks.  Yet, it is, at times, a lovely country atmosphere, even as development continues to encroach our area, and, for some, not enough growth to impact our rising taxes.

Regardless of any season, the views are often spectacular.  Colors which awaken each Spring.  The Autumn kaleidoscope painted when Fall arrives then,  the gentle coating of the first snowfall as nature takes its winter nap. But, Summer…long, lazy days mixed with sudden downpours and the inevitable heat and humidity.  These few months of lounging through outdoor activities will soon end as we cycle through one more year. 

This marker stands in place to denote the Carver Bridge.  It sits alongside Route 301, at the intersection with Belden Road, just before the causeway that leads over West Branch Reservoir. 

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It reads:  Cut stone with wood deck, Timothy Carver, first Supervisor of the Town of Carmel, drowned there in 1824.  The former bridge is now under 50 feet of water, one half mile to the south.

 

I give due credit to my daughter for capturing this beautiful summer view along the Route 301 Causeway.  I think Timothy Carver would approve.

 

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workshop-button-1 My response to Mama Kat’s weekly writing prompt…”Your favorite summer view so far”

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Broken…

“Look past the brokenness of others-because, quite frankly, we are all beautifully broken.”

This reached out to me after a friend’s post recently.  Although I’m not very religious, there was just something about so much of what’s behind these simple words.

Life can break us in ways large and small.   The damage may lie deep within, hidden from others who are often quick to judge what they cannot see.   Being, and staying, broken leaves us hurt, angry, and confused. Being broken open leads to self-awareness, empathy, and compassion.   Ultimately, it leads to healing, always for ourselves and sometimes for others.

Ernest Hemingway wrote in his novel A Farewell to Arms: “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.” Not only are some strong there . . . some are down right beautiful.

Be beautiful, broken, wonderful, whole, and help someone else with your hope and love.

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From Mama Kat’s Writing Prompts….Write a post in exactly 11 lines. 

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