A Postcard from Beth

DEAR READER,

I usually send my monthly newsletter—The Bookshelf—out early in the month. This March, however, I’ve been deeply involved in a few projects that have consumed my time.

I plan on sending out The Bookshelf soon, but I thought I would deliver some clover and a question—with the expectant hope that March will wind itself in the green we crave after the long grey washes of winter.

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Here is the clover:

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Here is the question: Do you have a time of year—A month? A season?—where the books you read need to check very particular boxes?

March is like that for me. I can feel the burgeoning spring, almost melancholy in its promise. Thin evenings edged in birdsong. I begin to leave windows open. I play music rooted deeply in nostalgia. I want hope and sadness, the ethereal, the fathomless…

And so I look for a particular kind of book.

I want something with tang.
I want a sense of wildness.
I want words born of rich loam.
I want a fresh wind.
I want beauty and mystery bound in uncertain ways.
I want the rituals of human experience.
I want to fill my lungs.
I want the world of my books to be bathed in cold, green and blue light, with the promise of a home fire burning.

x Beth