On Waiting

Waiting for the tiny and very late-blooming Toad Lily (Tricyrtis) to flower, proved not to be in vain. Usually, I only have one lonely bloom, and then the frost swoops in and kills the remaining buds. This year, many buds have been spared. They are so lovely - tiny, intricate, and and as any October flower - most welcome, and treasured.


Waiting is a common theme in life.

"In those days, we imagined ourselves as being kept in some kind of holding pen, waiting to be released into our lives. And when that moment came, our lives – and time itself – would speed up. How were we to know that our lives had in any case begun, that some advantage had already been gained, some damage already inflicted? Also, that our release would only be into a larger holding pen, whose boundaries would be at first indiscernible. (From recent Booker Prize winner, The Sense of an Ending, by Julian Barnes). I have read the first chapter offered free online, as I have now become rather engaged with the whole ebook phenomenon. As a young girl, most of my hours were filled with reading. There was nothing more exciting than that weekly visit to the school library to chose some books, and the feeling of opening those first few pages was like none other - it all lay ahead, like a great adventure waiting to begin. As I grew older, I graduated to Lord of the Rings and such, and of course, completing a degree in English and History required a lot more reading, and my favourites were the Victorians - Dickens and his contemporaries - novels and poetry. But then work came, and a certain amount of laziness I suppose. I stopped reading, not that I didn't try, again and again, only to lay the book aside, abandoned after only a few pages, a chapter at the most. So much easier to turn the telly on, or flip aimlessly through a magazine...

She works in a library and doesn't read? I love, LOVE, the internet, browsing gardening and cat sites, checking on favourite blogs, etc, and having a small device which I can carry with me everywhere to do all that very much appealed to me. A laptop, even a small netbook, is just too heavy and cumbersome. But wait - there is something I can read with as well? Real books? And so, I have found myself reading again - during any spare minutes I have, usually while waiting for buses, or while riding on buses. Sometimes I just like to listen to music while I wait, but reading seems more productive somehow, and certainly takes me "away" from whatever is grinding me down at any given time. As I begin to read, I sometimes think, yes, I remember this feeling - embarking on a new adventure. And in a funny way, the Kobo or Kindle bookstore holds the same promise my little school library once did. By the way, my first ebook is, appropriately, The Archivist by Martha Cooley :)