I've been sitting in my garden this afternoon, finishing the last fifth of 'The Paris Wife' by Paula McLain. Facing into the lovely Sunday sun, I've felt all warm and light and spring-like, rested and relaxed and peaceful - just as a Sunday should feel.
Reading in the garden is one of my favourite things (which comes after reading in bed, as you'll guess if you know my lazy self!); I love the quiet yet drowsy quality to afternoons such as these, where I'll be warmed through by the sun whilst losing myself in the world that I'm reading about (being safe and wild at the same time) - but I do remember my manners and greet my neighbours when they walk by!
I've really enjoyed 'The Paris Wife' and would like to read the poetry that Paula McLain has written, for her language and succinct, textured description grabbed me. I'll post another time about my responses to the book, but first I must let it leave me - I always write my Reading Journal entries a day or so after finishing each book, so that I have a bit of distance away from the characters and what happened to them, otherwise I'm still so caught up in it that I can't think critically.
Plus, the garden is calling me once more - so now that a fresh cup of tea is brewed and emails/Pen Pot checked, out I go again...before this lovely Sunday sun sets.