The Reader

The Reader, Jean-Honore Fragonard, circa 1770-1772
The Reader, Jean-Honore Fragonard, circa 1770-1772

Such a tiny book! Maybe it’s poetry. Whatever it is, she seems immersed in it.

I find myself reading more and more. I don’t read fast, but lately I devour the written word at every spare moment of my day. Other than my devotional books (which are placed at strategic places around the house), I have bookmarks in The Best American Short Stories 2013 edited by Elizabeth Strout, The Red Garden by Alice Hoffman, The Frederick Manfred Reader, Drawing With Children by Mona Brookes, Towards a Philosophy of Education by Charlotte Mason, and Rush Revere and the First Patriots: Time-Travel Adventures with Exceptional Americans by Rush Limbaugh. That last one I’m reading to my six-year-old (and my husband when he’s in his chair pretending to read the newspaper). And now I’m looking at my list and thinking I really ought to add a book of poetry to round things out. I wish 18th century paintings had zoom so I could see what she’s reading!

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The Parasol

The Parasol, Francisco Goya, 1777
The Parasol, Francisco Goya, 1777

What a fun painting by Goya! I would adore having this on my wall. The facial expressions alone would cheer me up, not to mention the happy colors, the triumph of sun over storm, the sense of living contentedly in the moment no matter what may come. Face the day with a smile and a green parasol!