Vernon fed cows and worked on the hay feeder that’s broken. I’m not good at mechanic work other than “Hand me that 3/4″ socket” and I do as I’m instructed… It’s a great deal of standing around for me, so I worked inside on my house, doing the normal daily slog that must be done… plus a couple of craft projects I can share when I take photos.
Other than that, tonight I watched the last two episodes of my latest favorite television show… and now, of course, here I sit with puffy eyes and stuffy nose from crying.
Don’t ask me why. I’ve read the books, I know what happens for heaven’s sake!!! But I do believe that they have done a marvelous job at transferring Diana Gabaldon’s books to the small screen.
Anyone else a fan of the Outlander series???
I’m actually re-reading the books (they’re huge and detailed and wonderful historical fiction – even more interesting since I discovered my family heritage parallels much of the story), having devoured them when they first appeared twenty years ago. It is quite the journey, and I’m not talking about the storyline! I read them then as a different person. What I could have told you about the plot and what I remember most of the books, is not really what stands out to me now.
I understand more of love, loss, motherhood, family, death, and choices.
Re-reading is like visiting with an old friend and discovering a new part of their life you knew nothing about. Discovering more information is fun and intriguing and shocking and addictive.
There are some books I’ve read and re-read… not many, but some. Usually, I try to stay on top of some new ones just so I can make recommendations at my job! But I am seriously enjoying Ms. Gabaldon’s books once again. Even more, I’d give kudos to the producers, writers, directors, and especially, the actors in Outlander for bringing these books to life… although I’m sure my opinion is a drop in the ocean of their fandom.
The furnace clicks on, fighting the winter that lurks outside. The great owl calls to its mate in the cottonwoods overhanging my house. My eyes see my cluttered desk, and clothes I’ve yet to fold, but my heart rumbles with the artillery on Culloden Moor, at the smoke and the waste, the loss of life and love. But beyond that, the author also gives us the gift of life and love and hope. For in all this world, do we not whirl around in a dance giving and taking, loving and hating, hoping and despairing, living and dying? It is the way of this world, and Diana Gabaldon can tell its heart wrenching story better than most.
I’m ready to return to the next pages and I’ll wait for Season Three.
Tapadh leat, a charaid.
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