The Friends of the Deer Park Library had one of their summer book sales, and we were there. Great folks, great deal. They get donations of all kinds of books, fill up a boat-storage place, and sell them for a donation. We donated two boxes of books, and took away five boxes of new fiction (including science fiction and mystery), craft and how-to books and some Fine Gardening magazines. They sort the books out on big tables by subject matter, and there is usually a pleasant fellow to help load. One customer brought a wagon to haul his books; I'm going to do that next time.
It's a great way to discover new (to me) writers like Will Self and Alexander McCall Smith and Milton Burton, and keep up with familiar ones. The only downside (other than needing to build more bookshelves) is that the authors don't get any of our money. Just like using the library, I suppose.
It's been hot all week here, and is supposed to continue so (100 degrees forecast for Sunday!). I plan to read through the middle of the each day of my four-day weekend. And maybe nap. Anything but get sunstroke in the garden.
The moon is big and yellow, and a breeze is blowing from the dairy farm over the hill.