A Gathering of Poetry: June 2025

It's the third Thursday of the month so I'd like to welcome you to A Gathering of Poetry. Today I made sure I didn't forget about A Gathering of Poetry like I did last month, and this month Billy Collins came to my rescue. 

I had a lime tree that died and I recently bought a new one. It's outside and growing well and I recently caught myself thinking, "I just love this little lime tree." A few days ago I was washing my hands with a bar of Ivory soap and found myself thinking, "I really love the smell of this soap." Thankfully, Billy Collins had already written a poem about these moments.  

Aimless Love
by Billy Collins

This morning as I walked along the lake shore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door—
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor—
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

 

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"Aimless Love". Collins, Billy. Nine Horses: Pan Macmillan and Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2003.

You can read more about the poet here and here. 

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Thank you for reading and joining us for our monthly Gathering of Poetry. You are

more than welcome to add your link below if you would like to share one of your

favorite poems. The more the merrier!

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Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/18/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with the slightly sad tale of a broken needle. I did order a bamboo circular so I could attempt the four-stitch decreases in Soft Current (ravelry link) on needles that aren't too slippery, but they arrived with a broken point in the sealed package, so I've ordered a different type. The replacement should arrive sometime this week, but I'm not sitting around waiting impatiently. I cast on for a pair of socks with some self-striping yarn in my favorite colors. I'm really enjoying working on them and am heading down the foot on the first sock.

 

John is leaving on Saturday to go fishing in Alaska so I figured that since he is taking a pretty nice trip I at least deserved some sock yarn. My skein of Martian Rainbow from Must Stash arrived on Monday and I'm anxious to get that wound and cast on. It's raining again/still, so I had to take indoor photos. The colors aren't quite right, but eventually it will stop raining and I can take some pictures outdoors.

 

 

So for now, the fiddly lace in Soft Current can wait.  

I finished two books this week. The first is entitled Bad Company: Private Equity and the Death of the American Dream. I wasn't sure this was a book for me when I was first offered the ARC, but I decided it was worth reading to educate myself about what private equity firms really are and how they operate. 

In Bad Company, Megan Greenwell pulls back the curtain on the destructive influence of private equity firms, whose sole mission—to generate maximum profit for investors—often comes at immense human cost. With sharp reporting and deep empathy, Greenwell explores how this opaque, powerful industry has reshaped American life in ways most of us aren't aware of until it’s too late.

From retail chains gutted for parts, to nursing homes where patient care declines as profits rise, to newsrooms stripped of staff and mission, Greenwell brings the consequences of financial chicanery down to the ground level—where ordinary workers and communities are left to pick up the pieces. The sections on housing and health care are particularly chilling, showing how private equity firms insert themselves into essential services, extract wealth, and then leave ruin behind.

What makes this book stand out is its focus on people—not just policies or profit margins. Greenwell never loses sight of the lives destroyed, dignity eroded, and communities disrupted when decisions are made purely in service of capital.

While some readers may wish for more policy prescriptions or structural analysis, Bad Company succeeds as a necessary, accessible, and often enraging look at an industry that thrives in the shadows. It’s a wake-up call to anyone who’s ever asked, “Why does everything feel like it’s getting worse?”

Thank you to NetGalley and Dey Street Books for providing me with a copy of the book. It was published on June 10, 2025.  

The second book, The Beast in the Clouds, is a fascinating blend of adventure, history, and science, chronicling a little-known chapter in the lives of the Roosevelt brothers—Theodore Jr. and Kermit—on their ambitious and dangerous 1920s expedition to China in search of the mythical giant panda. Nathalia Holt brings a sharp eye to the historical detail, placing this journey in the broader context of Western imperialism, scientific exploration, and family legacy.

The book shines when it digs into the Roosevelt family dynamic, particularly the pressure the brothers felt to live up to their father’s name. Their psychological struggles, especially Kermit's lifelong battle with depression, are handled with nuance. Holt also gives us a vivid portrait of the expedition itself, from treacherous mountains to cultural misunderstandings, and paints a complex picture of China at a moment of political upheaval.

That said, the pacing occasionally lags, particularly in the midsection, and the book sometimes feels torn between being an adventure story and a historical analysis. I also would have appreciated more in-depth coverage of the ecological and zoological significance of the panda, beyond its role as a symbol or trophy.

Still, Holt’s research is impeccable, and her prose is accessible and often poetic. This is a compelling story about obsession, legacy, and the fine line between scientific curiosity and colonial arrogance. A great read for fans of narrative nonfiction and those curious about forgotten corners of exploration history.

Thank you to Atria and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on July 1, 2025.

What are you making and reading this week?  

 

Read With Us: It's A Wrap-up

It's my turn to do the Read With Us wrap-up and I've been considering what I wanted to say about our discussion of Nesting. I did take some notes during our discussion last Tuesday night along with some less than ideal pictures. Zoom used to show me a thumbnail array of everyone, but now it shows a large image of the person speaking and everyone else is small. I think there were 13 of us discussing the book but you get close-ups of Kat looking pensive while answering a question and Jill who was dedicated enough to join us while she was on vacation. 

Kym opened up the discussion by asking her ice breaker question about what format (real book, digital book on an e-reader, or audiobook) we enjoyed reading the most. Our answers varied widely, with several people preferring real books, some liked audio, and some read mainly on their Kindles. A few of us use different formats for different activities and there are some people that enjoy "dual" reading - listening to the audio version and following along on Kindle or in the real book. It was quite a lively discussion and we talked about it for almost half an hour before we started discussing Nesting.

Carole asked "How does Ciara’s story shed light on systemic failures—particularly in social services, housing, and financial support—that make it nearly impossible for her to break free? What form of social safety net—safe housing, child allowance, legal aid, emotional support networks—might have changed Ciara’s odds? Where does the novel suggest these are absent or inaccessible?" Several people were a little surprised that resources were in such short supply in Ireland and we all agreed that there are not enough resources of any kind for housing, financial assistance, or other support, in Ireland or the United States. Debbie made a point about how limited resources are in rural areas, and even if safe houses exist, there may be a 3-4 month waiting list. We felt that reading about the lack of resources along with the bureaucracy Ciara endured really helped pull the reader into the book.

My questions had to do with the epigraph O'Donnell used, a poem called "Mother Ireland. The final lines are “Now I could tell my story. It was different from the story told about me.” Why do you think O’Donnell chose this poem? How is Nesting different from the story normally told about women like Ciara?" Kat said that she felt it was powerful when Ciara said, "This is my voice" and she realized that she had her own story to tell, and it was not the one her husband had been telling. Vicki made a point that everyone involved has their own story - Ciara's children, her mother and sister, and even all the people she was dealing with in the bureaucracy of housing, but Ciara eventually learned to own her story and tell it. 

Kym wondered "What does the title Nesting suggest in the context of the novel? How does it relate to themes of home, safety, and survival? How does the ending leave you feeling? Does it offer hope, realism, or something in between?" Most participants felt that Nesting was a good title for the book, as it made us think of making a safe and secure home for our family. Ciara had to leave her house to do that for herself and her children, but she was able to do that in the hotel and eventually her own home. Many of us were a little unsure about the crow shown on the cover and what the crow meant in the story, but someone mentioned that since Ryan may have taken it from the nest, it represented power over innocents and was another way to show how cruel he could be. 

We all liked the book, despite the fact that the ending felt like it was a bit too easy. When Kym, Carole, and I are choosing a book, we're often concerned about whether it will be discussable or will everyone just say they liked it so much that there's nothing to talk about. Most likely because of the intense subject matter of abuse, we had plenty to talk about even while we all enjoyed the book. 

I have come to rely on our Read With Us discussions to clarify ideas and participants often bring up points that I have not considered. It's a valuable thing for me, and I think that was especially true for this discussion. Several of you shared your personal experiences with family or friends in the same abuse situation and your willingness to share made this book even more personal and understandable. I'd like to thank all of you for reading, participating, and sharing. 

If you took part in the Zoom and would like to share some of your own discussion highlights in the comments, please feel free to do so. (That might make for a better wrap-up than trying to decipher my fragmented and scribbled notes!) We’ll be announcing our summer selection on June 24th so be sure to check back then. It's something a little bit different with a fun twist this time!

My Parade

I heard something about a big birthday/military parade in Washington, D.C. on Saturday. My birthday was yesterday and while there didn't seem to be a parade in my honor, I've been thinking about what I would like to see in my parade:

• Cats
• Yarn and/or knitting in some fashion
• A float with librarians giving out books to spectators
• Another float where people give away pieces of carrot and chocolate cake

This parade wouldn't last long so I could leave with several pieces of cake, some yarn, and a new book to go home and read on the porch. Maybe a nice cat would even follow me home.

In case you're wondering what this might look like, it could be something like this:

 

That is far better than soldiers and tanks, and you are all invited to my birthday parade with smiling cats, yarn, books, and cake!

44

Forty-four is the number of years we've been married, so Happy Anniversary to us. That is kind of an amazing number to me, especially when I consider that John retired three years ago and that means he's always around. This has meant some big adjustments (mainly on my part), but I'll bet that we make it to 45.

 This is what we looked like on June 13, 1981.

Here's what we looked like on June 14, 1981. 

I'd post a picture of what we look like now but we don't have any recent photos of us together. Maybe I'll ask Ryan to take one when we see him later today, but that's probably not necessary. We look exactly the same and haven't changed at all. (Insert hysterical laughter here.) 

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/11/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with a finally finished Hitchhiker. It rained most of the day yesterday, so I wasn't going outside to throw it in the grass for a photo. I pinned it to the porch railing and that's the best I can do for now. Maybe if it ever stops raining and I get it out again in the fall I'll try to take a better picture but it is fine for now.

It's huge (57 teeth), warm, and I'm glad it's done. I do like the colors, but I might arrange them differently if I was knitting it again. I am definitely not doing that! 

 

 

Since I finished the Hitchhiker I gave myself permission to wind my new yarn and cast on. I was knitting along quite happily until I got to the row with cables, K4tog, and SSSSKtog. Yikes! I attempted this late at night when I was tired, using slippery needles, and John was watching a loud Led Zeppelin documentary; these were not ideal conditions. I managed to tink the row back, but I'll be checking later today to see if I did it right. I just ordered some (hopefully) pointy bamboo needles. Once they arrive I'll give them a try and decide if they are both sharp enough and not slippery so I can keep on knitting with them or if I need to cast on again and knit more loosely with the new needles. Here's an unimpressive photo of the first 12 rows:

 

To avoid knitting frustration and disappointment, I also cast on a pair of socks. There are only a few rows of ribbing, but I can always work on them if SSSSKtog gets to be too much. 

 

I finished two books this week and neither one of them was great. The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins takes a popular phrase, “let them”, and builds an entire book around it. The core message is straightforward: stop trying to control others and instead allow them to behave however they want. Has someone excluded you, ignored your needs, or made questionable choices? Let them. According to Robbins, your peace is found in that detachment.

There’s some value here, particularly for dealing with minor annoyances or setting boundaries in everyday relationships. If a friend constantly cancels plans or your co-worker is rude in a meeting, practicing “let them” can save you energy and stress. In those cases, the advice is simple, freeing, and practical.

But that’s also the problem — it’s too simple. This is a message that probably would’ve been more effective as a blog post or a short TED Talk. The book is highly repetitive, and once you understand the premise, there’s not a lot of new ground covered. There is a second part to the "theory" that seems to get lost, "Let me." This invites you to turn inward: Let me figure out what I need, let me take control of my response, let me move forward without needing permission from others. “Let them” can be a liberating way to disengage from unnecessary conflict, and the “let me” side empowers you to take responsibility for your own peace and next steps.

But more importantly, I think the “let them” philosophy could be dangerously reductive when applied to serious situations like trauma, abuse, or grievous injustice. Suggesting that someone “let” their abuser mistreat them in order to reclaim peace is not only misguided — it can be retraumatizing. Robbins acknowledges that this method isn’t always appropriate, but much of that nuance got lost in the cheerleading tone.

There is some controversy surrounding the origin of the “let them” phrase, with various voices online pointing out that Robbins didn’t invent this concept. It’s an idea that’s floated around for years in different forms. Robbins has never acknowledged Cassie Phillips who originally wrote the "Let Them" poem, raising serious questions about originality and plagiarism.

I was prepared to hate this book because self-help proclaiming that it is life-changing raises my hackles before I even start reading. A friend said that it had been helpful so I was interested in finding out what the book had to say. Ultimately, The Let Them Theory offers a catchy mantra for specific, low-stakes situations, or even instances of personal growth, but it’s not a universal solution. The book is worth flipping through for a few takeaways, but approach with caution — especially if you’re dealing with deeper issues. Two and a half stars, but I can't round up.

I had hoped for more from Is A River Alive? by Robert Macfarlane. The book is a beautifully written, lyrical meditation on the nature of rivers, our relationships with them, and the broader question of what it means for something to be “alive.” As always, Robert Macfarlane’s prose is evocative, poetic, and deeply sensory—his gift for language can make even a puddle shimmer on the page. His references to myth, language, and cultural understandings of rivers from around the world (Ecuador, India, and Canada) are thought-provoking and richly textured.

That said, I found myself wanting more science to balance the philosophy and poetics. The titular question—Is a river alive?—is fascinating and could have benefited from a deeper dive into hydrology, ecosystems, or even legal personhood from a scientific or environmental law perspective. While the book inspires reverence and reflection, it didn't fully satisfy this reader who was looking for rigorous evidence, clearer answers, conservation history, economic pressures, and more understanding of interconnected systems.

The author has a real love of rivers and his enthusiasm and desire to protect them is admirable. His book is a lovely read for fans of nature writing and contemplative nonfiction, but less fulfilling if you're hoping for a more empirical or interdisciplinary approach. This one was three stars for me. 

Maybe next week's books will be better! What are you making and reading this week?  

 

Read With Us: Time For A Discussion

Today is the discussion day for our Read With Us spring book, Nesting by Roisín O’Donnell. 

Kym, Carole, and I are each posting a discussion question or two on our blogs today, and you are welcome to respond in the comments. I would also encourage you to reply to others' comments if you choose.  This is a book discussion, after all, so there are no correct answers or right opinions. I've been looking forward to discussing this book, even though the subject matter made it difficult to read. I don't know of a better bunch of people for a book discussion than all of you. 

Here are my questions: The epigraph for Nesting is a poem called “Mother Ireland.” The final lines are “Now I could tell my story. It was different from the story told about me.” Why do you think O’Donnell chose this poem? How is Nesting different from the story normally told about women like Ciara? 

I'll be glad to share my thoughts about these questions tonight during our Zoom discussion. These questions on our blogs and the Zoom discussion are your chance to express your ideas. So what do you think? I can't wait to hear your thoughts! (And I'm counting on our discussion to give me fresh perspectives in my own thinking about this novel.)

The in-person Zoom discussion will be at 7:00 pm Eastern this evening. If you haven't RSVP'd to Kym already you can send me an email (the email address is in the upper right) and I will make sure you get an invitation with the Zoom link. I hope to see you there!

In case you would like to read the whole poem "Mother Ireland" by Eavan Boland:

 

Sometimes Monday ...

 ... is a day to curse deer ticks and their very existence. 

Justin called me last week to ask if he needed an appointment at the doctor for blood work. It took a few questions to find out why he was asking but the answer is that he had a bullseye rash on his back but didn't know where to go. He's had Lyme disease before but that was several years ago and they did blood work if there was no rash present. It took a couple of days but he finally went to the doctor on Friday afternoon and asked if I would go with him. As a healthy young man he never goes to the doctor and often feels like he doesn't know what to ask. I think that patients can almost always benefit from having an advocate with them in any medical situation, so of course, I went with him. 

Sometimes Monday is also a day to be thankful that doxycycline is effective against Lyme disease and other tick-borne diseases. Justin is taking it for the next two weeks and that means he also needs to also be careful of photosensitivity as a side effect. As someone who is outside every day working on the grounds crew that may be a little difficult, but so is avoiding ticks. 

Have a good Monday and check yourself for ticks! 

 

Three Books and a Reminder

I finished three books this week, and one of them was Nesting, our current Read With Us selection. So in addition to book reviews, I'm also reminding you about our Zoom discussion of Nesting next Tuesday, June 10, at 7:00 pm. I'm looking forward to discussing this one!

Nesting is a haunting, beautifully written novel that explores the insidious nature of emotional and psychological abuse within the supposed safety of home. Róisín O’Donnell brings a quiet intensity to this story, set in contemporary Ireland, that is both unsettling and deeply empathetic.

The novel follows Ciara Fay whose gradual unraveling is mirrored by the slow, almost imperceptible tightening of control around her by her husband Ryan. What’s most powerful here is O’Donnell’s depiction of coercive control—not as dramatic, explosive outbursts or physical violence, but as a steady erosion of selfhood. The narrative voice is precise and restrained, mirroring the Ciara's psychological state, which makes the tension even more suffocating.

O’Donnell’s prose is lyrical but never overwrought. There’s a delicate balance between beauty and brutality in her writing that makes the emotional impact of the novel even sharper. The imagery of nesting—birds, homes, mothers—runs throughout the story in a way that’s both thematically rich and symbolically potent. It’s a metaphor that never feels forced but adds a deeply poetic layer to the narrative.

What earns this novel its high rating is its authenticity. Nesting doesn’t sensationalize abuse; it exposes its nuances—how it isolates, gaslights, and silences—especially in a cultural context that often prizes appearances and quiet endurance. I've often asked the question "Why don't women just leave an abusive situation like this?" and this novel helped me to better understand the many and complex reasons that it's so difficult.

A must-read for those interested in psychological fiction, feminist literature, or contemporary Irish writing. Nesting is a quietly devastating, necessary book that will stay with you. Four and a half stars rounded up. 

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I read the next two books as ARCs but for once, I'm telling you about them after they've been published and not two months before. So if you're interested, they should be available at your library.

Janelle Brown's What Kind of Paradise offers a compelling narrative that delves into themes of isolation, identity, and the impact of technology on society. Set in the mid-1990s, the story follows Jane, a teenager raised off the grid in Montana by her father, Saul. Their secluded life, filled with philosophical readings and a disdain for modern conveniences, is disrupted when Saul introduces a laptop into their world. He has demanded that Jane learn how to code so she can upload his manifesto. This event sets Jane on a path of discovery, leading her to question her upbringing and seek answers in San Francisco, a city undergoing its own transformation during the tech boom.

Brown's portrayal of Jane's sheltered life and her subsequent awakening is both poignant and thought-provoking. The novel effectively captures the tension between the allure of technological advancement and the desire for a simpler existence. Jane's journey is marked by her struggle to reconcile her father's ideals with the realities of the world she uncovers.

While the narrative is engaging, some aspects of the story could have been more fully developed. The pacing, particularly towards the end, feels rushed, leaving certain plot points and character arcs insufficiently explored. Additionally, the framing device used to bookend the story may not add significant value to the overall narrative.

Despite these shortcomings, What Kind of Paradise succeeds in prompting readers to reflect on the complexities of freedom, the influence of technology, and the search for personal truth. It's a novel that offers a unique perspective on the coming-of-age genre, making it a worthwhile read for those interested in stories that challenge conventional notions of progress and self-discovery. Three and a half stars rounded up. 

Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on June 3, 2025. 

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A Family Matter by Claire Lynch is a quietly devastating and beautifully told story about a family split apart by prejudice, silence, and the painful choices adults are forced to make or make in error. Set in England, the novel follows the adult daughter of a single father who uncovers a long-buried secret: that her mother—who she believed absent by choice—was actually ordered by the courts in 1983 to remove herself entirely from her daughter's life due to her sexual orientation.

Lynch handles this emotionally fraught territory with subtlety and care. The narrative moves between past and present, slowly unspooling the truth as the protagonist grapples with her father's illness, her own experience of motherhood, and the question of whether she should seek out the woman she never knew she missed. The writing is restrained but emotionally resonant, capturing the quiet ache of lost time and the complicated love that persists even through separation.

There are some things that are left unsaid in the novel, but this is both a strength and a weakness by toning the emotion down a bit, but at times the reader is left wondering. The emotional core of the novel is powerful and deeply affecting. Lynch does an excellent job portraying the social and legal forces that shaped queer lives in the 1980s—and the long aftershocks of those injustices. The author's note that stated, "In the 19080s in the United Kingdom, around 9o percent of lesbian mothers involved in divorce cases ... lost legal custody of their children," was a terrible and chilling statistic.

A Family Matter is a tender, thought-provoking novel about the costs of silence and the redemptive potential of truth.

Thank you to NetGalley and Scribner for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on June 3, 2025.

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Here's hoping you have a good weekend and a good book to read! 

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/4/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with yet another installment in the current Hitchhiker. I really hope this is the last still-in-progress post, but I'm still not done yet. I will keep on knitting ...

Since I talked about looking forward to my next project last week, I'll tell you a little bit about it. This is what I'll be casting on:

The pattern is Soft Current (ravelry link). The pattern says "Soft Current is knit flat as a simple rectangle. After blocking, a short 2-4 inch seam at the corner creates a soft loop that slips easily over the head and stays in place without fuss." I'm not sure whether I'll leave it as a rectangle or sew the seam to make a loop, but that decision is a long way away! 

Here's the yummy yarn I'm planning on using. I haven't even dared to wind it yet. 

It's a really soft combination of alpaca, silk, and cashmere in my favorite color. It's got to be something gorgeous to pull away from Hitchhikers and I have high hopes for this pattern and yarn.

I finished three books this week, so I'll be back Friday with my book reviews. 

What are you making and reading this week?  

Sometimes Monday . . .

 . . . is a day to work in the kitchen. 

There is a little bit of a story behind this. Towards the end of last month, Kat posted this amazing video from Rajiv Surendra about his most valuable piece of clothing. It was a stunning embroidered waistcoat, and I was so entranced that I sent it to my SiL. She has become slightly obsessed with his videos and now tells me every week that I must watch his kitchen tour or his talk about his Indian jewelry. He has a lovely voice, lives in an apartment in NYC that he carefully curates, and seems like a gentle soul that appreciates beauty. 

The video that my SiL said I must watch this week was this one:

 

I have never viewed washing my floors as therapy but it is a new way to think about a chore that needs to be done. My SiL said it has made a difference to her; she has very little control about what is happening in the world or our country, but she can control whether her floors are clean or not. 

 

 

That makes sense to me, so I told her I would give it a try. I found four gallon bags of tomato puree from last year's garden in the freezer and I cooked them down into sauce yesterday. The area by my stove has plenty of sauce spots and needs to be thoroughly cleaned. I've also been getting increasingly aggravated with the mess in my pantry cupboard, so my plan today is to take everything out, clean the shelves, throw away everything that is old and/or expired, and then put it back in an organized way. 

 

Then I'll wash the kitchen floor after doing two messy jobs. I hope to have a clean and organized pantry along with a clean kitchen floor and maybe even improve my mental health along the way. Here's hoping your Monday is a good one whatever you do!

 

Three Days of Rain

We've had three days of rain and showers and a lot of rain before that, but that isn't all bad. We're still down more than three inches in precipitation, so any rain is good, and it has provided me with plenty of time to read and knit. It's also been great for rainbows!

Please forgive the odd angle in the photo. I was trying to get the greatest amount of arc in the picture before the rainbow started to fade.

I hope that if you've got rain in the forecast for this weekend that you might also catch sight of a rainbow. 

Unraveled Wednesday: 5/28/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with another installment in the current Hitchhiker. I've knit and knit on the penultimate color and it has seemed to take twice as long as many of the others (and I'm still not done with it!)

It probably wasn't the smartest thing to head out to the front lawn and fling the Hitchhiker down when John had just mowed, but that just means I'll be picking bits of grass off of it while I knit tonight.   

This project has officially become a slog. Maybe it feels so slow because I have the yarn for my next project (not a Hitchhiker!) nearby and I keep petting its alpaca, silk, and cashmere loveliness. I'm quite tempted to cast on but I fear that I'll never finish the Hitchhiker if I do. So I will slog on and hopefully finish this one soon.

I finished two books this week, and I'll start with the worst first. Broken Country by Clare Leslie Hall is a novel that clearly aims high—lyrical prose, weighty themes, and a dramatic emotional arc—but unfortunately, it collapses under the weight of its own ambition.

The core of the story revolves around a tortured love triangle involving Beth who is married to Frank and her former love, Gabriel. This could have added emotional complexity but instead felt overwrought and strangely hollow. The three central characters—each nursing their own brand of poetic suffering—move through the plot in a haze of longing, regret, and endless internal monologue. It often reads like a melodramatic stage play where everyone is perpetually mid-soliloquy.

While Hall's prose is undeniably vivid, it's also relentlessly ornate. Nearly every sentence strains for significance. Descriptions that could be poignant in moderation become exhausting when every raindrop is symbolic and every glance a metaphor. I found myself pulled out of the narrative again and again by lines that seemed more concerned with sounding profound than actually being profound.

There are a few moments when Hall’s vision of a fractured landscape mirroring emotional disintegration really works. But the vagueness of the setting and the lack of consistent internal logic made it hard to connect. Things just happen, often with little grounding, to push the love triangle forward—or to stall it dramatically.

In the end, Broken Country feels like a novel that wants to say something big about love, identity, and grief, but gets lost in its own reflection. It may resonate more with readers who enjoy poetic, impressionistic storytelling and don’t mind when plot and character development take a back seat to atmosphere. Two stars and a note to myself: Avoid celebrity book club choices in the future.

When the Cranes Fly South by Lisa Ridzén is a quietly devastating novel that follows 89-year-old Bo as he navigates the loss of autonomy in his rural Swedish home. Receiving round-the-clock care—and grappling with his son’s insistence that his dog Sixten be rehomed—Bo embarks on an emotional reckoning, piecing together memories of childhood, marriage, and lifelong friendships as he confronts the reality of his dwindling time.

Narrated in Bo’s gentle, unadorned voice and punctuated by the log-book entries of his caregivers, the structure deftly mirrors the fractured nature of his mind and the fragments of a life well lived. Ridzén’s prose is unpretentious yet evocative, capturing small moments, such as sunlight on snow or the soft weight of a loyal dog in your lap, that add to the atmosphere of the book.

Bo’s internal monologue rings true, especially in his poignant conversations with the memory of his wife. The interspersed care-team logs offer an objective counterpoint to Bo’s subjective reflections, underscoring how the everyday becomes extraordinary in hindsight. Aging, regret, and the struggle to express love are explored with compassion and insight.

While Bo is richly drawn, figures like his son Hans and longtime friend Ture occasionally felt slightly underdeveloped. I wished that more had been written about what Hans was thinking and feeling. The novel’s gentle pace perfectly suits its meditative tone. The momentum felt slow at times but fit perfectly with the tone of the book.

Overall, When the Cranes Fly South is a moving meditation on memory, dignity, and the quiet heroism at the end of life. It offers a profoundly life-affirming portrait of love and loss and is highly recommended for readers drawn to character-driven stories that balance sorrow with soulful tenderness. This one was four stars for me.

Thank you to NetGalley and Vintage for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on August 5, 2025.

What are you making and reading this week?

The Many Moods of Nugget

Really, I think that Nugget only has two moods, hungry and napping, but she's a cat, so that is as it should be.

Justin & Jess headed to Cuyahoga Falls National Park for a long weekend, so that meant I got to kitty-sit. I'm probably not really needed at all since Nugget has an automatic feeder and waterer, but no automated litter box yet. I'm glad for the chance to keep her company, give her a few treats, scoop her litter box and let her nap on my lap if I'm lucky. I also get to check on the reptiles but they are definitely not why I make the 45-minute drive to Justin's house. 

Maybe if I stare at the feeder enough, some food will appear in my bowl. She was 25 minutes early.

I took a couple of Steiff stuffed cats along just to see how Nugget would react; she was not impressed. 

She was confident enough to knock one of the cats down to get a treat I had put on the floor. 

Nugget was happier when I removed the stuffed cats and she could get back to her proper place on her pillow,

ready to settle in for a nap.

If you don't want to see the reptiles, it's time to click away. 

First up is Hammy, the hognose snake. He's just little and not too creepy looking.

They also have Chomper who is some kind of lizard, but he was hiding.

Last up is Bubbles, a 10-12 foot boa constrictor. I make sure the reptiles have water and that their heat lamps are functioning, but I've made sure they know I will not be feeding Bubbles. I think she's a bit creepy and not very much of a pet, but Jess has had her for 21 years, so to each her own.

 

Nugget is a much better pet, perfectly cuddly and thankfully, not a repulsive reptile!

A Bunch of Books

I read three books this week and thought I'd tell you about them in a book post today. 

I've enjoyed Carl Zimmer's writing before so I decided to give this one a try. Air-Borne offers a compelling and meticulously researched exploration of the invisible microbial life that inhabits the air we breathe. With his trademark clarity and enthusiasm, Zimmer takes readers on a journey from hospital rooms to mountaintops, tracing the path of airborne microbes and the surprising roles they play in everything from climate systems to pandemics.

Zimmer excels at making complex science understandable without oversimplifying. He builds narrative momentum through case studies and historical anecdotes, and readers familiar with his previous work will appreciate his steady hand in guiding us through the unseen. Particularly engaging are the chapters on the aerobiome's influence on weather patterns and how technological advances are changing our ability to detect and understand airborne organisms.

While the book is intellectually stimulating, it occasionally suffers from uneven pacing. Some sections dive so deeply into microbiological specifics that the broader narrative loses altitude, becoming more academic than accessible. A bit more narrative cohesion would have helped ground the reader in what is, ironically, a very air-bound subject.

Still, Air-Borne is an insightful and timely read in a world where the unseen world around us is more relevant than ever. Zimmer reminds us that the air isn't empty—it's alive. Readers curious about aerobiology (the science of airborne life), the frontier of microbial ecology and public health will find plenty to chew on. Three and a half stars rounded up.

I've also enjoyed several of Rachel Joyce's previous works (The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry and Miss Benson's Beetle) so I was excited to read this ARC. Rachel Joyce has a gift for exploring the quiet tragedies and small triumphs of people, and The Homemade God is no exception. With her signature blend of lyricism and introspection, Joyce crafts a narrative that examines family, siblings, grief, art, and the fragile constructs we build to make sense of a chaotic world.

The novel follows four adult siblings whose lives begin to unravel when their semi-famous painter father Vic, a man in his 70s, marries 27-year-old Bella-Mae after knowing her for only five weeks. As the story unfolds, Joyce introduces us to a cast of characters each grappling with their own search for meaning, anchored by a central motif: the idea of creating one’s own beliefs in the absence of answers.

Joyce’s prose is, as always, elegant and emotionally precise. There are passages here that are truly breathtaking, and a few moments that hit with such emotional clarity they linger long after the page is turned. However, the pacing lags quite a bit in the middle chapters as the siblings and Bella-Mae do little besides wait and drink.

Where the novel shines most is in its tender exploration of belief—not necessarily in the religious sense, but in the ways people choose to believe in love, in each other, in rituals, and just maybe, in their own ability to keep going. Joyce never offers neat resolutions, but she does offer grace, which in the case of The Homemade God is more than enough.

A thoughtful, if uneven, novel that rewards patient reading. Recommended for fans of introspective literary fiction and those who appreciated Joyce’s earlier works like The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. Another three and ahalf stars rounded up. Thank you to NetGalley and The Dial Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on July 8, 2025. If you are interested, there is a Goodreads giveaway for this book. 

This last book is the best of the bunch. Lily King’s Heart the Lover is a quietly powerful, emotionally rich novel that lingers long after the final page. True to her signature style, King delivers a story that is intimate, intelligent, and deeply human—centered around love in its many forms: romantic, familial, and self-forged.

At the core of the novel is a college senior, first nicknamed Daisy and then called Jordan from The Great Gatsby, who is both vulnerable and resilient, navigating the fragile terrain of new beginnings and also grief after the loss of her mother. King’s prose is sharp but tender, layered with subtext and subtle insights that reward close reading. Her dialogue is deft and believable, and she has an incredible knack for capturing the ache of longing without tipping into sentimentality.

What stood out to me was how King explored the tension between desire and independence. The emotional arcs feel authentic, and the small, real-life details—a gesture, a glance, a half-spoken thought—also carry weight. The book moves at a measured pace, which allows the characters and their inner lives to develop slowly and meaningfully. One of the novel’s greatest strengths is its restraint—King never gives too much away too soon. Instead, the narrative unfolds with subtlety, drawing you in gradually and keeping you engaged through quiet revelations and both small and large powerful moments.

Heart the Lover is a gorgeous meditation on what it means to be open to love after loss, and how finding connection often requires facing the truths we keep hidden from even ourselves. Fans of Writers & Lovers will feel right at home, and if you haven't read Writers & Lovers you will want to after finishing this one. Four and a half stars rounded up.

Thank you to NetGalley and Grove Press for providing me with a copy of the book. It will be published on October 7, 2025. Depending on when you're reading this, there may be a Goodreads giveaway for a copy. It closes on Friday. 

We've had lots of rainy and chilly weather that seems to be made for reading. I've got plenty of books in my to-be-read queue and I hope you do, too. I'd love to hear what you're reading now!

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 5/21/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with the finish of the Lapislazuli stripe that I unraveled and fixed last week and the beginning of the penultimate blue strip in La Ola. I think this means "the wave" in Spanish, which strikes me as a little different because most of Wollmeise's names are in German. 

I suppose I could call it die Wellen (the waves) or more poetically die Wellen des Meeres (the waves of the sea) but either way, it's a light blue that is not dramatically different from Lapislazuli. I'm a little unsure about it, but I'm using Kym's real estate advice and knitting more fabric before I make a real judgement. 

 

I finished three books this week and might finish another one, so I'll be back Friday with a separate book post.

What are you making and reading this week?