Just some good books, in good places.

Pictures not words from me today.

Well, mostly.

The words in these books are the words I want.

Okay, and the colors.

And the coming-home.

And the memories of feeling at-home while not physically at home.

In these memories, there always seems to be something good in a cup or glass nearby.

(Mead not pictured.)

And a fair amount of friendly flame. It’s almost that season again.

Books-by-the-fire season.

Evenings-by-candlelight season.

Gothic-novel season. Apparently.

And poem-season. Always.

Happy reading. Happy Fall.

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