Sarah's Books - Used & Rare

2016 is off to a fine start.  Ryan and I spent most of this first day of the year beachcombing (and scouting out potential painting locations) on a remote point, with ocean on three sides, and spectacular views in all directions of the compass.  The sun peeked in and out of soft clouds, the new snow from earlier in the week had melted just enough to be picturesque without being dangerous, on the wide granite ledges we were scrambling around on, sea ducks were softly talking amongst themselves just offshore, and the day was even warm enough to go without a hat when we were in the shelter of the point.  My heart felt as wide open as the big spaces around me.  A huge, clean, clear feeling.  An antidote to recent grief.  Couldn't be much happier, I thought:
 

But happiness comes in so many forms - communion with nature certainly, but also via words, books, and blogs - and my heart lifted yet again when I read Ronald Blythe's most recent essay, just added to the Word from Wormingford blog of his writings for the Church Times.  So much I love, contained in a few brief paragraphs - Blythe himself, of course, and also Pepys and Evelyn, Horace Walpole and Chips Channon (haven't read his diary yet, cannot wait) - diaries and journals, their similarities and differences, and the resolution to begin writing such things oneself, on New Year's Day!  I couldn't let all this go by unmentioned, here, when my gratitude for all good things is running high.