The Underside of Joy

The Underside of Joy by Sere Prince Halverson
Fiction
2012 Penguin Group
Finished on 3/8/12
Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)





Overview (from Barnes & Noble)

Set against the backdrop of Redwood forests and shimmering vineyards, Seré Prince Halverson's compelling debut tells the story of two women, bound by an unspeakable loss, who each claims to be the mother of the same two children.

To Ella Beene, happiness means living in the Northern California river town of Elbow with her husband, Joe, and his two young children. Yet one summer day Joe breaks his own rule-never turn your back on the ocean-and a sleeper wave strikes him down, drowning not only the man but his many secrets.

For three years, Ella has been the only mother the kids have known and has believed that their biological mother, Paige, abandoned them. But when Paige shows up at the funeral, intent on reclaiming the children, Ella soon realizes there may be more to Paige and Joe's story. "Ella's the best thing that's happened to this family," say her close-knit Italian-American in-laws, for generations the proprietors of a local market. But their devotion quickly falters when the custody fight between mother and stepmother urgently and powerfully collides with Ella's quest for truth.

The Underside of Joy is not a fairy-tale version of stepmotherhood pitting good Ella against evil Paige, but an exploration of the complex relationship of two mothers. Their conflict uncovers a map of scars-both physical and emotional-to the families' deeply buried tragedies, including Italian internment camps during World War II and postpartum psychosis.

Weaving a rich fictional tapestry abundantly alive with the glorious natural beauty of the novel's setting, Halverson is a captivating guide through the flora and fauna of human emotion-grief and anger, shame and forgiveness, happiness and its shadow complement . . . the underside of joy.


I first read about The Underside of Joy on Bermudaonion’s blog and became interested when I discovered that the novel takes place in Northern California. I lived in Redway (Humboldt County) in the late sixties and was curious to see if Elbow is actually based on the town of Benbow (which is just south of Redway and Garberville). I couldn’t figure that out, but I did enjoy the authenticity of the setting, as well as the occasional references to San Diego (I, too, worked for a biotech firm in La Jolla) and Encinitas (a small beach community near another town I in which I once lived).

Northern California Coast

I didn’t mark any passage and have since returned the book, but the story grabbed me from the opening pages and I read it over the course of just a few days (while cooped up in a condo on Kauai). The grief shared by a mother and stepmother (albeit, for a husband and not a child) rang very true and there were a few instances in which my heartstrings were gently tugged.

This is one of the rare instances in which I prefer the American cover art over that of the UK’s:

U.K. Cover Art

I discovered this “bio” on Halverson’s website. I love the poetic cadence in her words!


Where I'm From

I am from driftwood, a Mason jar of beach glass collected from our backyard shore on the Puget Sound, and wobbly figure-eights carved on a frozen backwoods pond in Connecticut — shoveled and jump-tested first by my dad.

I am from 25 houses and the inherited determination to have made each one my home and yet...

I am from a persistent longing to finally find home.

I am from Goose Lake suntans, a banged up rowboat and fishing for bluegills, grandma's rhubarb pie and sweet coffee-milk, grandpa's sign in the shower: hang up your wet swimsuits signed the management, a fun pack of cousins, and our painstakingly choreographed shows put on for the tipsy grownups.

I am from three third grades, two second chances, and one first love.

I am from "The only way to make a living by writing is to work in advertising," and "Follow your dreams."

I am from lapsed Catholics. I am from being a Born Again only to be reborn as a Born Only-Once. I am from the acceptance of mystery and trying to remember to find the sacred in this moment.

I am from holding reverent funerals with my little sister as we buried pet moths and butterflies and goldfish under an enormous lilac bush, pressing us with its blooming fragrance and early lessons of impermanence.

I am from Jan and Don, from cocktail parties where I ate the olives soaked in martinis and the maraschino cherries drenched in Manhattans, from boat trips through the San Juans, from aunts and uncles in Seattle who spoiled my sister and me every summer with Spuds Fish 'n Chips, camping, and shopping trips.

I am from singing road songs like I've Got Six-Pence while the red-orange reflections of my parents' cigarettes danced along on the windshield.

I am from moving to a place where I discovered that the Golden Gate Bridge is really red and where I learned to call the beige hills of late summer "golden."

I am from a kitchen timer that told me everything from how long I had to practice the piano to how long my mom had to watch us and the neighborhood kids play Marco Polo in our pool.

I am from gourmet dinners served at 11 p.m. and Carnation Breakfasts blended with ice cream the next morning.

I am from wordplay, inappropriate jokes, and milk-through-the-nose laughter; open arms and long hugs; honesty and admitted mistakes; and the deepest, unshakable certainty that I was always loved and always will be.

I am from old slides that still need to be made into pictures, from packing and unpacking boxes, from revising and finishing and beginning again. And again.

(This was inspired by Lindsey Mead’s beautiful post at A Design So Vast, which was inspired by a poem by George Ella Lyon, which was inspired by a poem by Jo Carson. With all this inspiration, perhaps you'll be inspired to try your own version.)


Final Thoughts: A bit simplistic and predictable, yet an enjoyable beach read. I look forward to her next effort.

The Homecoming of Samuel Lake

The Homecoming of Samuel Lake by Jenny Wingfield
Fiction
2011 Books on Tape
Reader: Catherine Taber
Finished on 2/22/12
Rating: 5/5 (Outstanding!)





Columbia County, Arkansas, 1956

John Moses couldn’t have chosen a worse day, or a worse way to die, if he’d planned it for a lifetime. Which was possible. He was contrary as a mule. It was the weekend of the Moses family reunion, and everything was perfect—or at least perfectly normal—until John went and ruined it.


Publisher’s Blurb:

Every first Sunday in June, members of the colorful Moses clan gather for their annual reunion at “the old home place,” a sprawling hundred-acre farm in Arkansas. Samuel Lake, a handsome young preacher with a huge heart and strong convictions, has brought his wife, Willadee Moses, and their three young children to the festivities. For the children it’s a time to vacation away from the prying eyes of their father’s congregation, and for Willadee it’s a chance to be with her beloved mother and father. But tragedy strikes, jolting the family to their core and setting the stage for a summer of crisis and profound change.

Samuel soon learns that he has lost his parish back in Louisiana, so he and his family take up temporary residence on the farm. Everyone is drawn to Samuel’s eleven-year-old daughter, Swan, with her outspoken questions and mischievous spirit. Swan, in turn, is fascinated by her powerful, secretive Uncle Toy, a war veteran, and his sultry wife, Bernice, an old girlfriend of Samuel’s whose desire to win back her old beau is a bit too obvious. But when Blade Ballenger, an eight-year-old neighbor, comes into Swan’s life, she focuses all her fierce energy on keeping him safe from his terrifying father, never realizing the possible dangers to herself and to those she loves.

With characters who come to life like members of one’s own family, Jenny Wingfield’s The Homecoming of Samuel Lake is a novel with the universal reach of the most memorable and lasting works of fiction.


I listened to the first five chapters of The Homecoming of Samuel Lake twice. On purpose. I fell in love with Catherine Taber’s southern accent, which is not too sweet or syrupy, but just thick enough to let you know you’re listening to a work of Southern fiction. Superb Southern fiction. Not since Kathryn Stockett’s The Help have I been so moved by a novel.

I need to read the printed version of this book since it’s all but impossible to keep track of favorite passages while listening. I did find this excerpt, which gives you a sense of the writing, over on Random House:

The reunion was always held the first Sunday in June. It had been that way forever. It was tradition. And John Moses had a thing about tradition. Every year or so, his daughter, Willadee (who lived way off down in Louisiana), would ask him to change the reunion date to the second Sunday in June, or the first Sunday in July, but John had a stock answer.

“I’d rather burn in Hell.”

Willadee would remind her father that he didn’t believe in Hell, and John would remind her that it was God he didn’t believe in, the vote was still out about Hell. Then he would throw in that the worst thing about it was, if there did happen to be a hell, Willadee’s husband, Samuel Lake, would land there right beside him, since he was a preacher, and everybody knew that preachers (especially Methodists, like Samuel) were the vilest bunch of bandits alive.

Every year, the day after school let out for the summer, Samuel and Willadee would load up their kids, Noble and Swan and Bienville, and take off for south Arkansas. Willadee already had freckles everywhere the sun had ever touched, but she would always roll the window down and hang her arm out, and God would give her more. Her boisterous, sand-colored hair would fly in the breeze, tossing and tangling, and eventually she would laugh out loud, just because going home made her feel so free.

Columbia County was located down on the tail end of Arkansas, which looked just the same as north Louisiana. When God made that part of the country, He made it all in one big piece, and He must have had a good time doing it. There were rolling hills and tall trees and clear creeks with sandy bottoms and wildflowers and blue skies and great puffy clouds that hung down so low you’d almost believe you could reach up and grab a handful. That was the upside. The downside was brambles and cockleburs and a variety of other things nobody paid much attention to, since the upside outweighed the downside by a mile.

The “old homeplace” had been a sprawling hundred-acre farm, which provided milk and eggs and meat and vegetables and fruit and berries and nuts and honey. It took some coaxing. The land gave little up for free. The farm was dotted with outbuildings that John and his sons had erected over the years. Barns and sheds and smokehouses and outhouses, most of which were leaning wearily by 1956. When you don’t use a building anymore, it knows it’s lost its purpose.

Wingfield has created some wonderfully endearing characters, all with interesting personalities and names such as Willadee, Noble, Bienville, Swan, Calla, Toy, and Blade. Reminiscent of Scout Finch, with her spunk and tender heart, Swan Lake (yes, that is her name) is one I will never forget.

The most delicious thing in Swan’s life was this one week every summer of wearing boys clothes and forgetting about modesty. She could scoot under barbed-wire fences and race across pastures without those confounded skirts getting in her way. She was little. She was quick. And she was just what Noble dreamed of being. Formidable. You couldn’t get the best of her, no matter how you tried.

When I first read The Help, I was completely bowled over by Stockett’s writing. I loved it so much that I went on to listen to the audio.

It was just as good.

When the movie came out, I went to see it with my daughter.

It was just as good.

My gut tells me that the printed version of The Homecoming of Samuel Lake will be just as good as the audio. How wonderful if someone were to option the rights for a film. I imagine Reese Witherspoon as Willadee and maybe Jon Hamm as Toy or Samuel.

See what some of my blogmates have to say about this remarkable novel:

Jenny Wingfield does an admirable job in recreating a mid-century Southern family. The food, community, gossip, and landscape all come together to firmly place the reader in the South during a time in history when reliance on faith and belief in family were strong. (Wendy, of Caribousmom)

Just finished and just amazed. I loved this book…The book has so much to offer. It is filled with a family of terrific characters that in one way or another touch your heart. You just can't help but let them in…This "best read" is now on my list of "must purchase" so I can add it to my personal bookshelves. (Joy, of Thoughts of Joy)

Recommend? An EMPHATIC yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was a home run read for me and one that lingers in my mind still. One of the best reads for 2011. (Staci, of Life in the Thumb)

Jenny Wingfield weaves together a beautiful story about family, about humanity. It's both heartfelt and humorous, and also dark and tragic. It's about being there for family and others when they need you the most. This book is certain to make my top 10 list for 2011. You MUST read this novel. (Diane, of Bibliophile By the Sea)

Final thoughts: Jenny Wingfield is a consummate storyteller who has written the proverbial Great Read. I believe it will be The Help of 2012. Read it!


About the Author

Born in Fountain Hill, Arkansas, Jenny Wingfield was a preacher's kid who grew up "pretty much all over Louisiana". She graduated from Southern State College in Magnolia, Arkansas, and for several years, taught English, French, and Language Arts. She lives in Texas with her rescued dogs, cats, and horses. Her screenplay credits include The Man in the Moon and The Outsider. The Homecoming of Samuel Lake is her first novel.


Go here to listen to an excerpt, read by Catherine Taber.

Birds of Paradise

Red-Crested Cardinal
(Paroaria coronata)

Also known as the Brazilian Cardinal

Spring!

The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his heaven--
All's right with the world!

Song from Pippa Passes
Robert Browning

Sunday Ramblings - March 18, 2012

Hello! Yes, I’ve been absent for quite a while now, haven’t I? I need to catch up on reviews (I have three in the works), but wanted to pop in and say hi. How are you all doing with the time change? It’s almost 7 a.m. and still dark outside. We’ve been having summer-like weather this past week, so I have all the windows open to cool things off a bit. (I refuse to turn on the air conditioner in March!) As I sit here, sipping my cup of coffee, reading some of my favorite blogs, I hear two birds (probably cardinals) chirping away, as if to say, “Wake up, everyone! It’s going to be another gorgeous day and you don’t want to miss a single moment.” And, I’d have to agree. With these warm days (we’ve been in the 80’s all week!), my garden is requiring quite a bit of attention. The daffodils are in full bloom, as is the Star Magnolia bush and Forsythia. Unfortunately, we’ve had very little rain (and very little snow – three storms this winter, which amounted to about 16 inches in all), so I spent some time watering the beds yesterday afternoon. I cleaned up one of the beds in the front yard and plan to do more work out there today. But I also want to get back out on the bike trail. I had my first ride of the year on Wednesday and it felt great! I convinced Rod to go for a short ride before dinner last night and I can’t tell you what a joy it was to be out on the trail just before sunset. I love this time of year and am looking forward to another week of beautiful weather.

Which brings me to the week before last. You might have wondered where I disappeared to. I ran out of time before my departure to say goodbye and let you all know I was heading off to Kauai. My parents have a time share in Princeville and invited us to join them for a week. My hubby wasn’t able to go, so I invited my biking partner, knowing she’d enjoy all the activities I was hoping to do. After three flights (Omaha to Dallas to Honolulu to Lihue), we arrived on Kauai in the middle of a thunderstorm and made our way from the airport to the north end of the island. It was a pretty intense drive, as it was dark & raining and I was not familiar with the road, not to mention I have terrible night vision. But we finally arrived and collapsed. It felt like we’d been up for days!

The following morning we awoke to a torrential downpour. I had heard it rained a lot on Kauai—it is the Garden Island, after all—but I had not expected such a deluge. The wind was blowing so strongly and palm tree fronds were flying everywhere. It felt more like a monsoon than a tropical rainstorm. We were finally able to venture out later that afternoon and walk along the golf course, only to get soaked in anther downpour as we headed back to the condo. The days are all a blur at this point, but suffice it to say, it rained all but two of the six days we were on the island. We were able to get out and enjoy the southern part of the island (delicious lunch at Brennecke’s in Poipu!) on Wednesday and spent most of Thursday morning in Hanalei. We took a long walk on a bike trail right along the ocean near Kapa’a and watched the sunset from the St. Regis hotel, overlooking Hanalei Bay. But by Thursday night the storm returned and the bridge out of Princeville was closed (the second time that week) due to either a mudslide or downed trees. The bridge into Hanalei had also been closed earlier in the week due to flooding. With an earlyish flight out of Lihue on Saturday, we decided to pack up and leave as soon as the bridge reopened. We made our way south to Kapa’a where we found a couple of rooms at the beautiful oceanfront Courtyard Marriott. The staff was more than generous with their discounted rates for displaced tourists and we enjoyed a delicious dinner followed by a wonderful hula demonstration by four little girls. I wish I had thought to get some of the show on video. The music was beautiful and the girls were adorable.

Saturday we flew home, arriving back in Nebraska Sunday morning. I’ve only taken a red-eye flight one other time (Nebraska to England) and I have to say the name is truly fitting. I was awake for more than 36 hours on that trip home. Add the hour time change and you can imagine how red my eyes were! Fortunately, I have Mondays off, so I was able to sleep as long as my body needed…13 hours!! It took most of the week for me to recover from the jet lag, but now I’m feeling back to normal. I sure wouldn’t want to do that on a regular basis. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to be a pilot or flight attendant!

So, do you want to know how much it rained in Kauai? I don’t know if you saw any reports on the news about the storm that hit the island, but the north shore (where we were staying) received 46 inches in the week we were there! 46! There was also hail, damaging winds, flooding, mudslides, and a tornado. Yep. If it weren’t for the palm trees and the gorgeous ocean, I would have started to wonder if I’d ever left the Midwest. ;) You can read more about the storm here.

You would think with all that time spent indoors, (as well as close to 32 hours of travel time) I would have read all the books I packed. Not so. I finished one book and read most of another, but that’s it. I wound up spending a lot of time catching up on my blog-hopping, which in my opinion is just a good as reading. And we did manage to get out and do quite a bit of walking between the rain showers. We weren’t able to bike down the Waimea Canyon or kayak up the Wailua River, but I did see a whale from our balcony. And several gorgeous waterfalls from a distance. And I had the most delicious Kona coffee and fresh ahi fish tacos I’ve ever tasted. And a few Mai Tais. J In spite of the rain, I was able to spend a week with my parents, which is always a joy. My mom and Bill are avid readers and it was cute to see them sitting side-by-side on the couch, each reading from their respective Nooks. I was also able to squeeze in a quick visit with my daughter and her boyfriend at the Grand Hyatt at DFW. They came out to have breakfast with us since we had such a long layover between flights. Love that D Concourse!

First morning at Alii Kai Resort
(Princeville, Kauai)

Kilauea Point

The Wai`oli Hui`ia Church
(Hanalei)

The ubiquitous wild chicken of Kauai

Sunset over Hanalei Bay
(from the St. Regis Hotel, Princeville)

Flooded Lower Hanalei River Valley

Flooded road in Hanalei River Valley

Mai Tais at Brennecke's Beach Boiler
(Poipu)

Poipu Beach

Well, I’ve rambled on long enough, so I’ll close for now. As usual, I took a bizillion pictures on my trip, so stay tuned for Wordless Wednesday.


Click on photos to enlarge.

Life Is Good - February

It's important to recognize and remember the good things in life, so I've decided to make a point of jotting down my weekly monthly blessings.

So what made me smile (or laugh) this past month?

• Friday night pizza (with Italian sausage & homemade meatballs).
• My husband walking Annie-Dog when it's -1 with a windchill of -14.
• Red roses.
• Memory foam pillow.
• Compliments from strangers on my photography exhibit in the B&N cafe.
• Senior citizen discount offer for Southern Living. Ha!
  
• 2 books in the mail from a friend.
  
• Discovering that Tana French has a new book coming out in July!
• The sign of spring -- daffodils poking up through the mulch.
• Sharing the couch to nap with Annie-Dog on a Sunday afternoon.
• Saturday morning coffee & scones at Cafe Italia with Rod.
• Billy Crystal and Chris Rock.
• Packing for a tropical getaway.
  
• Outpouring of love on February 17th.
  

The Venice Experiement

The Venice Experiment: A Year of Trial and Error Living Abroad by Barry Frangipane with Ben Robbins
Nonfiction – Travel Memoir
2011 Savory Adventures Publishing
Finished 2/19/12
Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Venice Challenge #3

Publisher’s Blurb:

Lured by Venice’s colorful history, Barry Frangipane was determined to experience its labyrinth of walkways, canals, and bridges, as more than just a tourist. With this in mind, he convinced his wife Debbie to join him in this grand experiment, a year long cultural immersion in the most legendary city on earth.

Through their initiation into Venetian society, Barry and Debbie discovered the close-knit family of inhabitants and innumerable cultural oddities of living in Venice, the improbable city built upon millions of tree trunks driven into the mud sixteen centuries ago. From the exasperating bureaucracy to high tides endangering their ground-floor apartment, these expatriates get far more than they bargained for.

The quintessential storyteller, Barry leads us deep into the inner workings of life in Venice. With his inexhaustible humor, he draws the reader effortlessly into his daily exploits, a journey filled with a cast of remarkable characters who will touch your heart.

It’s been a long time since I’ve read an entire book in one weekend. Granted, the font size is almost as large as that of a “large print” book, but once I started reading, the pages practically turned themselves. I wound up spending most of a Sunday afternoon curled up on the couch, lost in the magical city of Venice.

I have several pages marked with sticky notes for future reference (yes, I will get to Italy one of these days!), but upon reflection, it was not the writing (which reads like a personal travel journal or blog), but rather the destination that held my interest. Frangipane’s humor was lost on me, and as a matter of fact, there were a few instances in which I thought he was rude toward—and disdainful of—tourists in general and his wife in particular. Had I not been so interested in reading about Venice, I might have called it quits.

On Venice:

Slowly, Venice came into view. All the bell towers seemed to grow as we neared the city, with the famous campanile towering over Saint Mark’s Square.

As we left the station, the city of water opened itself up to us. The Grand Canal, directly ahead, was bustling with activity. Two vaporetto, or waterbus, stops perched on the edge of the canal with people waiting at each one. We watched people going about mundane daily routines in this exotic place that seemed to emerge directly out of the sea. Traveling down the canal were merchant boats carrying wine, toilet paper, and Coke, while a UPS boat delivered packages to businesses on the canal. Palaces rose up from the water with beautiful blown-glass chandeliers glistening in the windows. The aroma of fresh pastries filled the air.

Travel Notes:

San Daniele, a quiet little spot in the foothills of the picturesque Dolomites, was home to arguably the best prosciutto in Italy. Tiny restaurants specializing in the local delicacy were found on every corner. Many of them offered beautiful views from outside terraces, where thin slices of prosciutto were served on silver platters paired with homemade grissini breadsticks and white wine.

Serene canals near Fondamenta Misericordia along the backside of Cannaregio.

Rialto market at sunrise and Piazza San Marco at midnight.


Go here to read more about Barry and Debbie's venture in Venetian travel tours.

Debbie now has a cooking show, which you can learn more about here.

Final Thoughts: I was pleasantly surprised when I received The Venice Experiment from Bellezza—she knows my passion for travel & foodie memoirs so well—and was delighted to add the book to my stack for the Venice in February Reading Challenge.

This is neither A Year in Provence nor Under the Tuscan Sun, but I was entertained nonetheless.

The Midwife of Venice

The Midwife of Venice by Roberta Rich
Fiction
2012 Galley Press
Finished 2/16/12
Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Venice Challenge #2

Publisher’s Blurb:

Not since The Red Tent or People of the Book has a novel transported readers so intimately into the complex lives of women centuries ago or so richly into a story of intrigue that transcends the boundaries of history. Hannah Levi is renowned for her gift at coaxing reluctant babies from their mothers using her secret “birthing spoons.” When a count implores her to attend his dying wife and save their unborn son, she is torn. A Papal edict forbids Jews from rendering medical treatment to Christians, but his payment is enough to ransom her husband, Isaac, who has been captured at sea. Can she refuse her duty to a woman who is suffering? Hannah’s choice entangles her in a treacherous family rivalry that endangers the child and threatens her voyage to Malta, where Isaac, believing her dead in the plague, is preparing to buy his passage to a new life. Told with exceptional skill, The Midwife of Venice brings to life a time and a place cloaked in fascination and mystery and introduces a captivating new talent in historical fiction.


I came upon the ARC of this book one day at work. It was right around the time I was putting together a stack of books for the Venice in February Reading Challenge, so I quickly snatched it up, eager to try another new author.

Photo Credits

Venice 1575:

During the full moon, unseen currents ran in the canals, washing over the crumbling walls and wetting the slimy steps of the ghetto. At high tide, acqu alta*, the entire campo disappeared under a layer of mud. Tonight was such a night. Hannah held up her skirts as she, the Conte, and the Rabbi made their way across the campo toward the gates, the Conte grasping her elbow to prevent her from slipping in the silt. Overhead in her building, shutters opened. A tiny flicker of a candle showed through the window and then the shutters banged closed. Hannah shivered as a rat leapt into the canal, leaving greasy ripples in the water.

and

Hannah stood on the dock for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Venice was awakening. Morning sun glinted on the water, infusing it with the luminescent colours of Murano glass. The canal was filled with boats jostling for right-of-way. Barges spilling over with apples and pomegranates, round and succulent, lumbered toward the Rialto market. A fishmonger on the opposite side of the canal held up snapper and tilapia, their scales pearly white in the first light of dawn. The shops along the strazi teemed with early morning shoppers. Water sellers trudged back from the wellhead in the piazzetta, their buckets sloshing.


I enjoyed the book well enough, but was more drawn to Hannah’s story than Isaac’s. I would have liked to have seen more accounts of Hannah’s midwifery prior to her visit from the count, as well as more details of her relationship with her husband. The plot lacks depth and, with the exception of Hannah, the majority of characters are one-dimensional and forgettable. In spite of these quibbles, I found the narrative entertaining and suspenseful and might be convinced to give the sequel a try, depending on the early reviews.


*Acqua Alta: (Italian: 'high waters') is the term used in Veneto for the exceptional tide peaks that occur periodically in the northern Adriatic Sea. The peaks reach their maximum in the Venetian Lagoon, where they cause partial flooding of Venice and Chioggia; flooding also occurs elsewhere around the northern Adriatic, for instance at Grado and Trieste, but much less often and to a lesser degree. The phenomenon occurs mainly between autumn and spring, when the astronomical tides are reinforced by the prevailing seasonal winds which hamper the usual reflux. The main winds involved are the scirocco, which blows northbound along the Adriatic Sea, and the bora, which has a specific local effect due to the shape and location of the Venetian lagoon. (Source: Wikipedia)

6 Years!

Good friends
and
good books --
things
we want to
hang on to
forever.

Last Wednesday marked the 6th anniversary of Lesley’s Book Nook (now known as Prairie Horizons).

Really? Six years?!

When I first started blogging about books, I never imagined I'd stick with it for all these years. I have two other blogs that I no longer post to and my poor, pathetic cooking blog that is rarely ever added to. (And which is in desperate need of a makeover with all new photos!) Over the years I grew weary of the pressure to write reviews and got bored with my template, often considering ditching the whole thing for more time to read, but I could never bring myself to say goodbye to all the great friends I’ve made over the years. Andi, Heather, Nat and Nancy, you guys are probably the bloggers I’ve known the longest. We met on a couple of Yahoo sites prior to blogging and I think it was Andi who convinced me to give it a try. Since then, I’ve seen other online friends join in on the book chatter (Nan & Kay) and while some have left for good (if you’re reading this, please know that I miss your posts*), others have quit and returned (much to the joy of this reader). Many of you are like sisters to me (Bellezza, Wendy, Joy and SuziQ) and I hope we get a chance to meet some day. Some of you share my enthusiasm for travel (Stephanie & Iliana), cooking & photography (Pam), and many others are simply faithful readers, virtual friends with whom it's a pleasure to stay in touch, discussing whatever arises (Staci, JoAnn, Kelly and Kathy). And then there are bloggers whom I’ve recently met (Linda & Trish) who feel like kindred spirits. You all enrich my life every single day. What a great community of which to be a part! Why in the world would I want to leave? Especially now that I’ve found my blogging mojo with this new template and discovered how easy it is to change up my header and sidebar. Life in the blogosphere is very good.

Getting nostalgic as I started to compose this post, I glanced back on my previous blogiversary posts (somehow, I missed the 5th!) and thought it might be fun to repost a little bit from each.


Year One:

Today marks the one-year anniversary of this blog. I can't believe how quickly the time has flown since I first posted my review for Barbara Kingsolver's Small Wonder.

It's been quite a year of emotional healing. I owe a lot to all my new friends who share my joy of reading (and kitties, inclement weather, cooking, gardening and random musings). I love reading all your comments and visiting your blogs.

I'm thankful for the warmth of friendship I've discovered within the blogging community and treasure each and every one of you. I look forward to many more years of writing and fellowship.


Year Two:

It’s important to have a sense of place. To feel that you belong somewhere, to feel committed. For some people, place begins with another person and everything – from friends to the Japanese maple in the yard – grows from that. But sometimes, it works the other way. You find a place where you belong. And the people find you. Gathering mussels, picking beans, eating blackberry pie. (author unknown)

During the past two years, I have found a place where I belong. I love sharing my thoughts about the books I've read, the places I've visited, the beauty in nature, and the new music I've discovered. And, I've discovered so many new authors and books thanks to all of you fabulous bloggers. My life is richer since I began blogging and I've met so many intelligent, funny, and kind new friends. I simply can't imagine ever giving this up! So here's to many, many more years of friendship and books.


Year Three:

Blogging has been such a rewarding experience and, although there have been times when I've felt too busy to post, I can't imagine my life without my blog and blogmates. Thank you all for helping to enrich my life. I've enjoyed each and every enthusiastic comment, felt each tender virtual hug in times of need, and am grateful for every one of you.


Year Four:

I've been busy catching up on my book reviews and just realized that my blogiversary came and went (yesterday). Have I really been blogging for four years?? I had to double-check to be sure. The time has certainly flown by! I want to thank each and every one of you who take the time to stop by and read my reviews, leave comments, and hang in there when I get quiet.


Keeping with the tradition of blogiversary give-aways and as a thank you for your loyal readership and comments, I would like to offer a gift of appreciation. Leave a comment between now and February 29th, indicating you’d like to be included (you must include your email address), and I’ll draw a winning name to receive a box of a dozen gently used books (including one audiobook) from my shelves. Due to the size and weight of the box, I will have to restrict this give-away to the U.S.

Human beings are meant to connect.
Laughter and good wishes
are an appropriate response to new adventures,
and gratitude for what has been
often walks hand in hand
with joy in new possibilities.
Whether it’s a traditional house-warming
or a modern blog-warming,
the point is the same:
life is better in community.
~ Linda, at The Task at Hand

* the other Lesley, Marcia, Robin