Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
57
The
sight
of
the
first
pale
flowers
starring
the
copses;
an
anemone
held
up
against
the
blue
sky
with
the
sun
shining
through
it
towards
you;
the
first
fall
of
snow
in
the
autumn;
the
first
thaw
of
snow
in
the
spring;
the
blustering,
busy
winds
blowing
the
winter
away
and
scurrying
the
dead,
untidy
leaves
into
the
corners;
the
hot
smell
of
pines--just
like
blackberries--when
the
sun
is
on
them;
the
first
February
evening
that
is
fine
enough
to
show
how
the
days
are
lengthening,
with
its
pale
yellow
strip
of
sky
behind
the
black
trees
whose
branches
are
pearled
with
raindrops;
the
swift
pang
of
realisation
that
the
winter
is
gone
and
the
spring
is
coming;
the
smell
of
the
young
larches
a
few
weeks
later;
the
bunch
of
cowslips
that
you
kiss
and
kiss
again
because
it
is
so
perfect,
because
it
is
so
divinely
sweet,
because
of
all
the
kisses
in
the
world
there
is
none
other
so
exquisite--who
that
has
felt
the
joy
of
these
things
would
exchange
them,
even
if
in
return
he
were
to
gain
the
whole
world,
with
all
its
chimney-pots,
and
bricks,
and
dust,
and
dreariness?
And
we
know
that
the
gain
of
a
world
never
yet
made
up
for
the
loss
of
a
soul.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
