By Tabitha Bozeman
Not that many years ago, I could never have guessed I’d do a complete 180 regarding how many books and genres I like to be simultaneously mid-reading. But, years ago, I had more time to slip into books one by one, immersing myself in them until I reached the end before moving on to the next. Adulthood, parenthood, life has fractured my time and schedule and attention with its continuously changing seasons of activity and space. Just when I think I have settled into a new normal, something changes, overlaps, or ends. It makes sense, then, that my reading habits have changed to keep pace.
My reading tastes lately, much like the weather, have vacillated between extremes. One day, I am reading flash fiction, enjoying the tiniest of stories that always surprise me with how long they stay on my mind. Another day, I am wading into a thousand page high fantasy novel I haven’t picked up in months, the characters and their settings popping back into my imagination as clear and bright as the last time I read about them. Still another day sees me reading a newly-released dystopian novel by a favorite author, and mentally comparing it to others I read in the distant past. Over the past couple of weeks, I have discovered a newfound enjoyment of BBCesque police procedural novels set, very specifically, in Scandinavia, while currently I am dipping in and out of an audiobook, wading through layered and complex character backgrounds tracing the stories of multiple characters interwoven throughout the book.
This morning, I stopped to take a photo of the budding iris that popped up last week. The unseasonably warm weather has confused it, I think, and the purple buds are hovering, tightly wrapped, ready to burst out. I love my irises, and enjoy them every spring. This one already bloomed back in April, and I am curious to see if it fully blooms before the frost gets it. In case it does not make it, though, I decided to take a picture. Shuffling my bags and setting down my lunch for the day, I pulled out my phone and opened the camera. I took one picture, then another. They were both out of focus. I tried again. Several photos later, I gave up. The camera would only focus on the leaf-strewn ground behind the iris. Frustrated, I put my phone back in my pocket, gathered up my bags and headed to the car.
Later, I looked back through the images to see if any could be saved, and was disappointed. The iris bud was fuzzy and out-of-focus in each image, and no editing was going to fix it. I began to delete the pictures, then stopped. The leaves on the ground behind the iris were in perfect focus. Reds, oranges, yellows, even purples lay everywhere. All year, I look forward to autumn and the falling leaves. This morning, though, I was so focused on the one novelty that I failed to even notice the leaves.
We often hear the quote that “variety is the spice of life,” and I enjoy changing seasons, the carousel of holidays, and the next new read as much as anyone. But, I often come back to the quieter joy and comfort of the expected, the mundane, and the everyday. Virginia Woolf said “Happiness is in the quiet, ordinary things,” and each time I settle into a cozy seat with a well-loved book, or listen to a song I know by heart, or shuffle through the leaves on my way to the car, I am struck by the wisdom of this observation.
Tabitha Bozeman is an instructor at GSCC. Email at tabithabozeman@gmail. com
