When reading these many details about a plant that I didn’t know, I once again was struck by how far humanity has gone from the natural world. It saddens me, but I am glad the grasses and wildflower still grow.
“Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blending
and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity.”
~ John Muir, author
(1838 - 1914)
*Information from plantwatch.naturealberta.ca and <godeeper.info>.
When I pack by bag for a journey of
10 minutes there and back, it is for all
the things to do on my short journey.
In my bag will be my laptop, the book
I am presently reading, tissues, pens,
a small notebook and in the side pocket,
my little green thermos of water. On the
way home there will be space for celery,
tomatoes or maybe a box of tea
~ nothing too heavy ~
much lighter than carrying
the world on my shoulders.
“Choose a subject equal to your abilities; think carefully what your
shoulders may refuse, and what they are capable of bearing.”
~ Horace
This is such a fun, romantic novel. I think I enjoyed this second read more. In my first review, I said I thought “the ending was rather weak”. On this read, I felt that it was just right. The trip down the Seine, in France, on Jean Perdu’s barge, the Literary Apothecary of books, took Jean, and his passengers Max and Cuneo on more than just a river cruise. It was learning about life and love for two middle aged men, Jean and Cuneo, and a young man, Max.
From May 15, 2019:
The Little Paris Bookshop will remain on my bookshelf to be reread and reread. Unfortunately for me and for this post, I was unable to attend our book group yesterday. A suspected cold (or was it allergies) had exhausted me, so erring on the side of caution I sadly missed the discussion. Nina George has penned a beautiful love story. From a man’s perspective. Monsieur Jean Perdu, his only love having left him twenty-one years past, has sealed off that part of his life. He does not speak her name, even to himself. He lives in an apartment in Paris surrounded my other long term residents. Most of them chatty, and a bit nosy, women who quite like him. One woman who has recently moved in, divorced and heartbroken, has nothing in the way of furniture. A brief encounter with her cracks open the seal he has so carefully guarded. His work is on a barge named the Literary Apothecary, where he provides books as a physician would write a prescription. Moored on the Seine, he shares this floating library with two cats, named Kafka and Lindgren. A young author, Max Jordan, has moved into the same apartment building and as the story progresses, joins Jean Perdu on his quest to find his long lost love and to resolve his great sadness. He has a problem with that scenario: he has learned that she has probably died. My only concern with this novel is that, for me, the ending is rather weak. Of course, I had decided on certain editorial changes that could have been done to make it more satisfying for me. Regardless, I loved this novel of Jean Perdu and his passengers as they travel down the Seine in fair and foul weather, stopping in ports along the way. Books, food, romance and France set the scene.
“And yes, being lovesick is like being in mourning. Because you die, because your future dies and you with it…There is a hurting time. It lasts for so long. But it gets better. I know that now.”
~ Nina George, The Little Paris Bookshop
Title: The Little Paris Bookshop
Author: Nina George
Copyright: 2013
Translation Copyright: 2015 (Simon Pare)
Published in the United States by Penguin Books
Format: Novel
Type: Hardcover and paperback
ISBN: 978-o-553-41879-8
ebook ISBN: 978-o-553-41878-1
I love being outside with the morning sun
on the other side of the building letting me take my
breakfast and my writing onto my shady balcony.
The forecast tells me the sun will be turning up
the temperature throughout the day. In the morning
I am safe and happy. Safety is a big deal for me and
in the afternoon heat, safety is best kept indoors.
Except I was restless. Walking somewhere, anywhere, is my treat; my absolute joy. In the afternoon, do I stay indoors or do I crazily brave the wilting flowers, the melting pavement, the hot cement under my feet and hope the wind is cool enough? On a good day, I’d be off to the grocery store, the pet store, the hair dresser, or just a walk at the lake. But today, despite a clear blue sky, despite a wind that may or may not be friendly, is not a good day.
I draw the line at being told I can't go for a walk ~ it's too dangerous, you know, with the heat and your epilepsy. But I've been stable for a couple of decades now; merely faint stirrings in some mornings. No tsunami of seizure activity. But I know to hesitate, to breathe and to make a plan before getting all stubborn and taking a bus to the store. Sure I get my walks in, but at what price? Excessive heat + bossy epilepsy can mean the tsunami wall can get knocked down. And believe you me, the heat today is excessive. So I made a plan: test it out by going for a walk around the block. My test results? Too hot for anything more than around the block! No seizure activity, but my thinking got a little wonky until I cooled off.
(I did nip into the gas station for a small carton of ice cream before taking my perspiring self into the cool.)
“Epilepsy is something nobody knows much about. It’s just a
part of me, part of my head, part of what’s happening
in there. Sometimes something in my brain triggers it off.”
~ Neil Young, musician
Or is it the kind of flower that is called perennial and comes from roots, or rhizomes or bulbs. Nevertheless, the flowers, from a distance all look the same. Their roots tangled with grasses, weeds and
wildflowers until they look like
they belong to each other.
And once there was a broad prairie with only
grass growing and many families were born,
no one knowing the other. With tractors and
plows, chalk and blackboard, medicines and
white uniforms, aprons and dinner on the table
at six, and doors open for business, each family
spread, putting roots deep into this new land.
One generation, then two, then three, then
four generations flowered and grew into more.
With each child ~ she looks like an aunt or an uncle
or some long dead ancestor, the way the hair curls,
or the way they walk or talk or laugh, or the
shape of a nose until ~ each generation looks like
the last but has its own way ~ along with their tangled roots.
“The thing that interests me most about family history is the gap between
the things we think we know about our families and the realities.”
~ Jeremy Hardy, comedian
to the sun, your slender branches
ready to leap o’er the fence
then my heart swelled with
a warmth inside that glowed ~
a gentle happiness that has remained
and a hope that all who see you
will feel your goodness.
“The gentle rose offer a powerful joy known only to the heart.”
~ Andrew Pacholyk, Lead Us to A Place:
Your Spiritual Journey Through Life’s Seasons
Prairie flowers,
so often tiny and delicate,
are seldom showy but for these marvellous wildflowers. They mimic the sun without the heat. No complaints here. The cold and ice of winter, always at the back of my mind, tempers any whining about the perspiration sliding my glasses down my nose or dribbling down my back.
I’ll take these brilliant flowers and this temporary (I hope) heat wave any day!
“Flowers don’t tell, they show.”
~ Stephanie Skeem, author
