As ever, when time is short, my reading draws into an absolute core of books which will entertain, edify, teach, and transport me completely out of this world and into theirs: as it's winter, it's Dickens; if it had been summer, it would have probably have been Jane Austen. In the picture, Esther Summerson is discovering Lady Dedlock, and this is where I got to last night, Bleak House having followed the Pickwick Papers and both preceding Hard Times which I imagine I'll start this week.
And the snowdrops are out, and there is a green sheen on the bark which wasn't there ten days ago. Not spring, and not the beginning of spring; but a token to remind us that winter will have an end.
Pentecost in the Parishes
23 minutes ago