Joseph Cornell. Untitled (Tilly Losch). 1935.

Helen Frankenthaler, Cameo, 1980. Woodcut

The very odd thing about making candied citrus peel (this is from a few clementines; we've been eating so many) is that I made candy from something I usually throw away. And now I'm going to mix this candy into a shortbread batter.

Happy Winter Solstice! And now we turn back towards the light.

🥹

Much of the snow has melted and it smelled so clean.

Each moment passing by so swiftly, so terribly fragile.

Clarice Lispector on reading Proust (in a letter, 1944): “I thought I would love Proust the way one loves things that overwhelm. But to my great pleasure, I find that I experience an enormous and sincere pleasure in reading him. I find him very natural… (1/2)

Finally! A moment of peace and quiet to look through the Chaucer Colouring Book. Oh to be a medieval owl.

The solstice cannot happen soon enough. I'm very ready to turn back towards the light.

"Tired of hearing Worldly things: Winter confinement" Kyoshi Takahama (image: Shufu Miyamoto)

the sudden crystal world

capybara listening to good music

I don't think these paperwhite bulbs will bloom during the holidays but that's fine as long as they do bloom. It's been such a brutal winter already. Flowers are a must!

Happy birthday, Jane Austen. By happy luck, I received this a few days ago and have just started it: 'The intimate connection of things with their owners and donors is more personal in Jane Austen than in any other novelist before her, and perhaps after her too.'

Very much looking forward to seeing this in the theatre this weekend. I missed it the first time around.

Went to a late lunch then saw a movie, and when we came out it was already night. This is too harsh.

How beautiful is that! They even have their own theme tune: m.youtube.com/watch?v=C9v8...

The moon is so bright it's casting the shadows of trees across the snow.

Zero degrees and supermoon bright

I usually have a bit of cheese when having a bowl of soup, but since I was out of cheese today, I swapped in half an avocado (with a little flaky sea salt sprinkled on top). I wish I had done this sooner.

Good morning with Tomas Tranströmer ciceronean us to the beginning of Winter A Winter Night The storm puts its mouth to the house and blows to get a tone

Inbound Santa Wednesday commute 🎅🚋 CTA Holiday Train, approaching Merchandise Mart at 2x speed

This book is a delight and the perfect place to start when reading Carrington’s work.

A Merry December to all. 🖼️ Décembre, Eugène Grasset, 1896.

And so the season begins. Thank you, @karenmcgrane.bsky.social!

One of my favorite chapters in Pamuk's My Name Is Red has been from the viewpoint of a forged coin. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd ever say such a thing (and this is why we read).

A story Stoppard told several times, in several places:

We're lucky to have in this issue two miniatures from @addisonzeller.bsky.social, although as often is the case with Zeller, "miniature" is a deceptive descriptor. These efficent stories, like Borges', are denser and more multitudinous than the longest novels. yourimpossiblevoice.com/of-the-lovers/

Illuminated Flower ~ Odilon Redon

Our first ever sitewide sale is here! Find great gifts for all the readers in your life—including these books that are all currently available for less than $20 each. Use the code HOLIDAY25 for 30% off everything on our website now through December 3. 🛍️ Shop here: buff.ly/8i58v4y

The little dark-eyed juncos have my heart.

first quarter moon before the winter storm

The cloud play on the river was delectable today.

And now to read as much as I can this evening so I can talk civilly to others tomorrow. That's the rule: hours of book reading=moments of civility

You better believe I'm making this right now for tomorrow.

Happy St Catherine’s Day! She’s the patron of women students, anyone who works with wheels (e.g., potters), tanners, philosophers, and librarians. She’s also my confirmation saint. I love this painting of her by Caravaggio.

Looks like a beaver has moved into town. I wish them all the best.

Discovering that Muriel Spark adopted Patricia Highsmith's cat, Spider, is all I needed to make a dull day better.

Even from the simplest, most realistic point of view, the places we long for occupy a far larger place in our life, at any given moment, than the place in which we happen to be. Marcel Proust, The Swann Way (transl. Brian Wilson)

The bright crescent moon is already beginning to set. Stay awhile, moon.

Winter as part Miss Havisham, part Jane Eyre's Lowood School for Girls

Happy Birthday, George Eliot. Thank you for writing out your beautiful heart despite everything.

The clouds were telling their own story this early evening.

“Poetry is ultimately mythology, the telling of the soul’s passage through the valley of this life, its adventure in time, in history.” —Stanley Kunitz in conversation with Bill Moyers

Red Shift

Spring coming into its own in April of this year.

Now to try and remember if I bought Lili is Crying and where I might have put it

My city is redoing the main street that runs near my house. It's a huge project that's much needed and will take a few years to complete. Today they cut down all the trees lining the road. This included the gingkos, one of more charming parts of living here. Modernity is ruthless.