Days filled with fishing, hiking and camping, (not to mention rain) made for early nights but there was always time for a little reading.
Just in case you didn’t get the full implications of that…
I’m in Colorado!
With no kids!
Just me, and my mom and a pile of fishing, hiking and camping gear.
Tonight after a crazy-lot of driving we are hotel-ing it but tomorrow we are off to the mountains!
We have many night time visitors that pass by.
Some, like the furry, masked ones that have a penchant for chewing on chickens, I’d rather keep on going.
But, I love seeing the grey tree frogs come out on a warm summer night.
I love historical fiction but often I feel like I read a different spin on the same time and place over and over and…
Mind you, I’m not complaining, I still love it.
But a book written about post WWII soviet controlled Germany, from a German view point ? That was something entirely new.
Would I recommend it? This is a young adult novel and, as most young adult novels do, it contains a main character of an age that is full of angst, invincibility and self importance. He is crafted so well that I could imagine sitting in a room and talking to him – except I wouldn’t want to. However, he is so perfect in his irritating-ness that I’m still planning on shoving this book at all my friends and family that I know enjoy a young adult novel because it was really that good.
As John braved the chilly evening, swimming out into deeper water with the older girls, Jane and I ran in and out of the shallows.
But before too long the two of us were chilly and had moved on to playing in the sand. Digging holes, building castles…
Me: “Look Jane! Now it has water all around it, like a castle with a moat, or an island.”
Soon Jane was cold, not even a sand library could keep her by the water, and off she went to the play structure at the edge of the beach.
Jane was happily playing on the slide.
Ivy, Clara and John were happily swimming out in the cold water.
A young park employee was happily(?) using a tractor to haphazardly move picnic tables about.
I was happily sitting on the sand.
And then Jane erupted with screams of terror.
“MOM! MOM! I scared! MOM! I scared!“
I ran to her side.
Jane pointed one little, shaking finger at the park employee, who was still bouncing about on a tractor, curly hair tucked under a bandanna, and cried:
“I scared of the pirate!!!”
She was so scared of the pirate.
She was so scared and I, her rotten mother, could hardly keep it together long enough to calm her down before dissolving into a fit of giggles on the beach.
Its blackened metal has been worn smooth by time and use, the words and images barely visible.
I hold this half cent on my palm in wonder…
How many hand did it pass through before it landed in mine?