The magic of reading

Lorraine off to her personal trainer, and then taking Pat to the doctor's this afternoon. I worked productively on the Long Poem this morning, also listening and slightly editing Robin's latest interview. We are getting things done early, as she and I are both away over the next couple of weeks. Heard from Chris at Seahaven poets, and he said he would give me a reading in Seaford soon, which was kind and something to look forward to. 

Went to the gym today, and felt good and have now got back to doing half an hour on the cross-trainer, and a variety of mild mannered weights. Cooked this evening, and felt fairly virtuous and healthy. Early to bed tonight, where I read a chunk of Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury, and Lorraine was reading a crime novel. Parts of Dandelion Wine seem very familiar, I probably read it when I was in my early teens. He had a lovely use of language, and it is full of nostalgia for a lost childhood. I remember reading Bradbury when I was a kid, and thinking I wanted to live in a midwestern town. He made it seem so magical. Was saying to Lorraine how much I like reading in bed, and reading C.S. Lewis and Ray Bradbury, have taken me back to reading as a child. I found myself sniffing my new copy of Dandelion Wine, to remind myself of that smell of a new book that was so magical as a child.