Scattered as my Mothers Pearls ask archive rss theme
I am just another sojourner in search of the next adventure / I hug trees / I'm a violin performance major / Practice yoga / Roman Catholic. / I read as though my life depends on it / Dreaming of far off lands / What do ye say we go globe trotting?/ Yes? . . . Nameste . . .
I am just another sojourner in search of the next adventure / I hug trees / I'm a violin performance major / Practice yoga / Roman Catholic. / I read as though my life depends on it / Dreaming of far off lands / What do ye say we go globe trotting?/ Yes? . . . Nameste . . .
My room is a lovely 102 degrees.
Guess who’ll be sleeping under the stars in the corn field tonight?
Saturday library runs never usually end up with just a handful of books, but an entire satchel.
That feeling of promise staring at the heap, wanting nothing more than to devour each book with care.
Also, as I’m now reading “A Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake” I feel like baking a lemon cake. Right now. At 22:00. Not for eating, but just for baking.
