A colleague recently turned me in the direction of Wendell Berry’s writings, so I’ve been reading Hannah Coulter on my iPad while traveling. It’s such a quiet, easy book–one that makes me feel connected to land and family. Perhaps, so far (about halfway through), it paints too pretty a picture of Hannah’s world, but I think that’s the point–to enjoy the perspective of a woman looking back on her life and making meaning of it all. I suspect that my mother and her friends might tell similar-sounding stories and I will someday, too.
And now that I’m knee-deep in his novel-writing, I’m also exploring Berry’s poetry:
The Peace of Wild Things
By Wendell Berry