Last Sunday at this time it was 80 degrees F. Right now, at 5pm, it's 36 degrees. It's been snowing and sleeting a bit off and on since last night. I loathe the heat so I don't mind the chill at all.
After 2 1/2 hours of reading (and loving) every word of Elphinstone's The Gathering Night this morning, I got to thinking about Anne Bronte, the youngest of all the Brontes. (This was one of those odd, nonsequitor kind of thoughts). I read just a bit about her online and was alarmed to discover she died at age 29 of tuberculosis.
My older brother died at the same age, and I have often thought that people only begin to realize their potential in their twenties. A death at 29 is so tragic because there is no time for the thirties and forties to bring those possibilities to full fruition.
I'm looking forward to reading The Tenant at Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte, a book I bought recently, but this was her second novel! I didn't know that. I feel compelled to read her first novel first, Agnes Grey, based on her experiences as a governess.
I discovered that it's available for 95 cents on the Kindle. Maybe I'll try that, though my Kindle's battery has been going through delirium tremens for over a week now, in spite of all the Amazon-authorized cants I've chanted over it.
Ring Out, Solstice Bells by Jethro Tull
2 hours ago
I think you'll like Anne Bronte's writing, just about everything about them was tragic. We visited Haworth last summer, I wrote a post about it.Anything above 65 degrees F is too much for me, luckily we rarely have warm weather.
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