Not just any books, but OLD books, torn pages, filled with language that speaks of a long ago era, dog eared, browned and brittle pages, some with covers falling off and some missing all together. What is it at the root of this obsession?
We moved to Pennsylvania after that, when I was in Sixth Grade and after living in another neighborhood house, my parents soon found an old run down farmhouse with some land to put their roots down in and fulfill a dream. With a ton of elbow grease they proceeded to turn it into what we all called Home… MacLeod’s Pond and it is where they still reside. (I have referred to that place in a couple of my earlier blogs) There was some adjusting to do since we had always lived in neighborhoods and here there wasn’t anything that resembled that for a couple of miles. No Humbrachts, no train tracks, no library, no grocery store within twenty minutes. What is a girl to do? Why of course, make a library of her own, again with her sister, in a little shed on the property.