hello world. it’s me, mary ann moss here with a visual postcard containing scenes from the last week.
southern california winters are perfect walking weather or just being outside in general. the air is clear and brisk in the mornings and evenings. the mountains of our city are ever present dark shapes looming in the background of every scene. everything is green and the trees are heavy with blossoms.
i’ve been porch sitting in the evenings while i watch the sky change color, sometimes dramatically, sometimes not.
at this moment a thunderstorm, that i’ve been waiting for all week, and our first rain since december, is circling over moss cottage and dropping heavy rain down onto the trees and shrubs. it will probably only last an hour or 2.
eventually i’ll see the latest version of little women, but i don’t see how it could possibly be as good as the pbs amazon prime series. jo marsh is debuted by maya ray thurman hawke, who is the spitting image of her mother uma thurman. the role of marmee marsh is played by the radiant emily watson and aunt marsh features dear angela lansbury. the cast couldn’t be more perfect or enjoyable to watch as they cast their spell over the course of 3 episodes. how i loved it!
having never read the book, little women, i’ve just checked it out from the library this week. i’m savoring every word.
on my bookshelf
i follow the fantastic waterstones channel on youtube, which is where i learned of the house without windows. i bought the hard cover copy because i had to see the beautiful inked drawings of jackie morris. it’s an enchanting story written in the 1920’s by a child. to learn more, go watch the vlog which i’ve linked above.
bird lovers may be interested in a feathered river across the sky. it’s a lovely, fascinating book.
In the early nineteenth century 25 to 40 percent of North America’s birds were passenger pigeons, traveling in flocks so massive as to block out the sun for hours or even days. The down beats of their wings would chill the air beneath and create a thundering roar that would drown out all other sound. Feeding flocks would appear as “a blue wave four or five feet high rolling toward you.
sounds somber, but i don’t think it is.
and on that note i will leave you. a nap and a book and the sound of rain are calling me! do keep me posted on your adventures big and small. where you’re going, what you’re making, which direction you’re headed in, and of course what you’re reading and watching. xo