The attention to details in nature thrills me. Non-fiction pieces cobbled into chapters from reams of journal entries. The narrator is unnamed but feels like Annie Dillard. Until my mother would inevitably say can you please put a sock in it. The pleasure of this book for me is that I can dip into it whenever I want to travel the Blue Ridge Mountain countryside, which has been a fascination for me ever since hearing as a kid the song ‘Country Roads’, which I sang alone in the backseat of my parent’s Oldsmobile as we drove north for summer holidays… me staring out the window at endless forest and imagining living a solitary life in those woods, making my own orange crate furniture… take me home, country roads…
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