These are the books that travelled with me this summer as I ran wild. If I had the energy, I’d tell you why you should all go on a journey and read them, but maybe you need to find your own way, and your own books. I had a couple of astute recommendations, refound old favourites, and one book lead me to the next, onwards in a chain as I roamed the country. Sometimes I found myself in the places being written about, sharing experiences until the line between my own experience and the prose on the page blurred, and I no longer knew which memories and words were my own. I particularly loved Roger Deakin and Robert MacFarlane describing their friendship and expeditions together, hearing one story from both sides. I cried all the way across Rannoch Moor, reading of Deakin’s death.
(Like most photos taken in my house, a ball of wool seems to have sneaked into the background…* Though for once, it’s not my fault. It’s Iona’s knitting. She has half a stripy scarf done, and watching her knit is still The Cutest Thing Ever)
I’ve been reading about this book swapping idea and I rather like the idea of releasing a favourite book into the wild. Findings could have stayed on the beach at Lligwy; Waterlog on a rock above the high tide mark in that deserted cove on Tiree; MacFarlane might enjoy hearing the seals sing on Lindisfarne.
What would you leave, and where?
*Oh! I take back what I said before. This is my home, piles of book, stray balls of yarn, heaps of kids’ junk, and all. I’m not ready to go. It hurts…