Don't get your hopes up

Garden Robin is no more fond of me and Tane hasn't been back.

Indeed, there's little of interest in the garden. I stand there. Enjoy my little trees. Hear rustles and cheeps. Come back inside.

The days are closing in and the clocks change this weekend. An hour less sleep. That's a shocker.

So, let's talk about my reading.

A hearty recommendation for Sean Kane's Wisdom of the Mythteller. Hard to say what it's about, except to say that the world in which myth originates is the world of humans who belong in a more-than-human world and who understand nature's ingenuity and appreciate that it cannot be controlled.

I've started Henri Bortoft's Taking Appearances Seriously, which I like. A little less hard than his Goethe book.

And Comanche Moon is still on the go. I like it, though some of the torture scenes are pretty grim. The removal of eyelids??? Awful.

I'm listening to John Crowley's Little, Big. Nearly at the end and no idea at all what it's about. And Harriet Rix's The Genius of Trees which feels as though it needed a better editor. It seems to flit from thing to thing and place to place. Rix reads it, and she has a very posh voice which is a lovely voice, but I might have preferred a voice less crisp and Oxbridge. Still, it is fascinating.