So here we are almost to the end of the month where nothing grows except our minds. Winter is harsh here, and it has been flexing its muscles this past week, leaving the trees and bushes beautifully coated with hoar frost. I think hoar frost is the only reason anyone should allow winter. It is magical.

It is the perfect time to sit inside ,look out at my trees ,and cozy up with a wonderful book. Given that we are still in the throws of the pandemic, I stocked up on books just before Christmas. (Smile, i just corrected the spelling of stocked… which I had spelled stalked…. and actually that wouldn’t have been so wrong…) I have been missing travelling terribly so I went searching for reviews of travel books and ordered some. The one I’m reading now, “This is Happiness” by Niall Williams, is amazing. It is a novel which I think fell into the “travel book” category simply because of its sense of place. Your are taken there with wonderful language that sings in your ear. You see it, feel it and know the rain ,the smoke, the soft air of Ireland even if you’ve never been there actually. I have been savouring it. Phrasing, rhythm and cadence bring you into the place, the story, the minds of the characters and into your own youth, all at the same time. It is just as magical as hoar frost, and a wee bit warmer.