I start every summer with a pile of books to be read. For the most part, I make steady progress through that pile, picking up a new read every week or so. Books get added to the pile when the mood strikes; others are set aside for a different time. The existence of a list of to-be-read books is a source of enduring happiness for me; a way of looking forward with ease in my heart. I see it as a comfort; as a way of looking after myself.
Books are that way for me: comfortable friends who make life richer and happier. Summer’s relaxed pace and long, warm days ensures that I have plenty of time to sit on the front porch and read. Come September, mornings on the front porch are too dark to read. If there is time when I get home, I will steal it on the porch with my current book. But it’s not as dependable as it is in the Summer. and now it feels like a treat In the busy days at the start of school, there’s no time to mourn the seasonal transition. That waits for Winter, when I cozy under a blanket on the sofa and look out the front door to the porch, marveling at the hours I spent out there just a few months back and sometimes longing for the ease of days when I can step outside in flip flops without fear of frostbite.
Seasons change; my habits do not. I read whenever I have the time.. There is less time when school is in session but I travel everywhere I can with my book. I grab the time that is available. I maintain a list of books to be read and eagerly look forward to my next read.