the year in books December :: pyjamas and a book

{this post contains affiliate links and gifted items} On Christmas Eve, each of my boys is each given a single present to open in front of a roaring fire. Inside is a new pair of pyjamas, to cuddle up in on the most exciting night of the year, ready to tiptoe downstairs on Christmas morning, and a

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a poem for December

‘It sifts from leaden sieves, It powders all the wood, It fills with alabaster wool The wrinkles of the road. It makes an even face Of mountain and of plain, — Unbroken forehead from the east Unto the east again. It reaches to the fence, It wraps it, rail by rail, Till it is lost

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the year in books :: November 2017

My last month’s read was The Mother of All Questions, a secondary collection of feminist essays by the brilliant Rebecca Solnit. This month, I’m slightly behind the curve, reading Ali Smith’s Autumn, which was released last year. I’m hoping to speed through it in order to follow it with its sequel, Winter, which has just been

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a poem for November

My November Guest ‘My Sorrow, when she’s here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree; She walked the sodden pasture lane.   Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list: She’s glad the

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