Dear friends,
While the delights of spring pull lesser minds outside, we hope that you are—like us—cleaning up your yard or sweeping off your balcony in anticipation of warm summer days in lounge chairs with something good to read. What is the point, after all, of having any sort of nice outdoor space if it can’t accommodate a cocktail and a thrilling Roald Dahl short story, or a swoony romantic scene from Daphne Du Maurier? The crocuses poke up their tiny heads and say: “There is no point to any of this beauty without a good book in your hand!”
This week, we ventured over to our house and did some clean up in the yard, hoping for just those kinds of days. It’s probably an inflated fantasy for us. If you didn’t know, last fall we had a house fire, and so we’ve been living in (what seemed at first) a posh furnished apartment in a highrise in the sky. The view of the fireworks on New Year’s Eve was spectacular. The cold winter storms were easier to endure next to the fireplace. The big windows with views of Downtown London (which is shockingly nice) made it feel less like we were crammed into a tiny two-bedroom with a family of five, and more like we had hunkered down to withstand the apocalypse.
But with the first smell of spring air, we found our patience completely gone. We are pacing this hall-less open concept beige box with the furious energy of an unwalked Border Collie. We are chewing up our slippers. We are shitting on the rug. We are digging in the garbage for something to distract from the desperate clinging need to be outside and in our house where we can open the windows wide and saunter out into the yard.
So, as mentioned, we went and did some yard work the other day. It was nice. We raked up the old leaves that didn’t get cleaned up last year (and yes, we know, there are tiny micro-environs and we killed legions of little helpful insects, but this year was exceptional) and picked up bits of our house that had been scattered out back by the junk removers and fire fighters. We smelled the soil and found plants we’d forgotten about struggling to grow underneath three inches of maple leaves. We remembered what it was like to swing in the hammock, and watched our little dog bark at the Canada Geese over the fence in Labatt Park.
Spring is here, friends.
While the good weather might drive you to markets and beaches and family reunions and walks in the park and bicycle rides along the Thames Valley trail, we also hope you will come to say hello and take a look at the books we’ve been digging up for you. You need a good book to read when you collapse after a long day fishing at the cottage, and we have those books.
We don’t just have good books—we are very picky. We have fancy books. There was an auction recently of a very nice book collection, and we have come into a ridiculous number of signed first editions in dust jackets. They are in immaculate condition. What could be more decadent than a day of fishing at the cottage followed by a glass of Scotch and reading not only a good book, but a fancy book, in your hammock under a canopy of green?
Sound good?
Sounds good to us!
Much love,
Jason & Vanessa
