With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
Adelaide Crapsey, “November Night” (via bookoasis)
Is it dark outside for you yet? Cambridge darkens so early now. Reminds me of my years on pointe, when I would wait outside for my father to pick me up at 5:15 from dance class. I remember the night, and the cold, and the crisp air, and reading books in what faint light was emitted from the studio.
When I lived in Mountain Grove, I would “help” my parents rake the yard by sitting in giant piles of leaves and reading my library books. I’d read just about anything, from Maniac Magee to Anne of Green Gables, from Little Women to The Babysitters Club.