I love these storage bins! Wonder if I could get a shelf full of these for Christmas?
Author: Paul Harding
Only 191 pages, and maybe not many more sentences. In his final days, while confined to a bed with family all around, George’s life begins to scroll through his memory. But not just his, his father’s memories also start to meld into George’s memories, passing back and forth between them in a mixed stream of consciousness.
I found a couple paragraphs that I had the kids attempt to read. Many sentences were more than a half page long, spliced with commas, I suppose trying to paint a picture that I just was not seeing. The ‘best’ sentence started on page 180 and finished on page 182, even throwing two words, vastation, scurf, and intaglio, that I had to look up. (They will be my ‘vocabulary words’ for the next 3 days.)
I am guessing I am just not up to reading this ‘high’ literary stuff.
Unlike some kids on YouTube, my 3 older grandkids (ages 2, 5, and 7) love getting books for Christmas.
One of the presents I gave them this year was a home made gift card good for a book a month at our local used bookstore.
When my kids were younger I would take them to the Bookworm to choose any used book they wanted.
Now I not only have an excuse to take my grandkids with me to do the same, I will be held accountable to do it.
I will make sure the bookstore has a hole punch, or will bring my own, so that when I pay for their books we can get each card punched.
I created the card using the open-source graphics program, GIMP, and then had them printed as photos at Costco.
I then trimmed them down to 4×2.5 inches. If anyone wants the source file used to create the card, let me know.
Just saw this Librivox recording of an early J.R.R. Tolkien poem over at SFFRadio
download the MP3
of the file directly from the
that also contains short works of Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, Dorothy L Sayers, CS Lewis, William Faulkner, Kahlil Gibran, DH Lawrence, Robert Graves, and Ernest Hemingway.
Goblin Feet by J.R.R. Tolkien
I AM off down the road
Where the fairy lanterns glowed
And the little pretty flittermice are flying :
A slender band of grey
It runs creepily away
And the hedges and the grasses are a-sighing.
The air is full of wings,
And of blundering beetle-things
That warn you with their whirring and their humming.
O ! I hear the tiny horns
Of enchanted leprechauns
And the padding feet of many gnomes a-coming !
O ! the lights : O ! the gleams : O ! the little tinkly sounds :
O ! the rustle of their noiseless little robes :
O ! the echo of their feet — of their little happy feet :
O ! their swinging lamps in little starlit globes.
I must follow in their train
Down the crooked fairy lane
Where the coney-rabbits long ago have gone,
And where silverly they sing
In a moving moonlit ring
All a-twinkle with the jewels they have on.
They are fading round the turn
Where the glow-worms palely burn
And the echo of their padding feet is dying !
O ! it’s knocking at my heart —
Let me go ! O ! let me start !
For the little magic hours are all a-flying.
O ! the warmth ! O ! the hum ! O ! the colours in the dark !
O ! the gauzy wings of golden honey-flies !
O ! the music of their feet — of their dancing goblin feet !
O ! the magic ! O ! the sorrow when it dies.