I’ve always been a reader. I like to chew over stories and their
characters. I read more in the winter
than I do other months. Winter reading also feeds me while I hibernate and
allows me to travel without going anywhere.
Even though my tastes haven’t
changed over time I’ve noticed this particular winter what I’ve
been reading has been affecting me more.
Lots of snow, a polar vortex, and more shades of grey than I can ever
remember have been major factors.
Combining that with a daily serving of grief over the absence of my
sister has tipped the scales.
Aside from the 20th
installment by the milky but humorous Janet Evanovich and a light
kitchen/recipe novel that I wrote about in my last blog, this winter's reading has been
like chewing a tough cut of beef: Jackdaws, (WWII espionage); The Invisible Wall, (WWII love story);
and The Book Thief, (another WWII
novel). The latter’s narrator
is…death. See a theme? See the problem?
Like mounds of carbohydrates,
reality hit me in the stomach this morning.
No wonder I’m sad and in a funk! Look what I’m feeding myself. What do I do? I’m resolving it. I’m changing my reading diet. First, I’ll be placing more emphasis on my
first meal of the day, morning devotionals. Second, I’m going to the library to
find a lighter assortment of books to digest which should provide for
healthier days. I'll keep you posted...
