I listen to the birds chirp on this and every morning, delighting in their musical nature of calling across the streets to one another. Every morning is different - sometimes the owl is very vocal. Sometimes not. Sometimes the blunt, sweet chirp of the cardinal is abundant. Or maybe the warbler or sparrow.
All this got me pondering as I aim to promote each morning - why can books not do the same? It is a silent call, written in ink and not sung by a scattering of birds, but transported across time and space (and the landscape of my tiny home) through reading eyes and sharing thoughts. I would like to think about how my books speak to one another on my shelves.
Lewis: Ah, jolly good day, Tollers.
Tolkien: Indeed, mighty fine day, Jack. The sun is just cresting over the verdant land and the bird song is rather cheery.
Lewis: It all makes me think of a good stroll. I shall go for a walk, later, care to join?
Tolkien: Rather, I would love to see the other shelf sometime. Oh, hallo Augustine.
Augustine: Greetings, gentlemen. Most pleased to see you. Shall we greet Dante over yonder? He seems awakened with some brightness.
Dante: O Love! Love that moves the sun and other stars. Can you not feel the movement in the spheres my friends?
Tolkien: Oh yes...
Lewis: Tell me more about it. Let's sit down for a chat and I will make some tea...come up to my rooms.
Okay, maybe not. Sometimes one needs to have a little bit of fun for no reason.
What I actually mean is how one book makes you think of another book or phrase that reminds you of another book, which then circles back to another book. Authors across time can bounce off one another. I love when that happens as I read a book and am reminded of something another author wrote about related to it. Then I go pick up that book from my shelf and discover a new meaning by letting one author speak to another.
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