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bookwormsat.bsky.social
BookWormSat
@bookwormsat.bsky.social
1.4K followers 1.2K following 370 posts
Celebrate literature every Saturday with BookWormSat. Hosted by @signemaene.com and @racheldeering.bsky.social
Weekly themes: https://signemaene.com/bookwormsaturday/
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bookwormsat.bsky.social
BookWormSat @bookwormsat.bsky.social · 6d
‘Is not this a true autumn day?…The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay…Delicious autumn!’ ~ George Eliot
For George Eliot’s birthday, this #BookWormSat roams the rural in literature. Come with us!
🖼️ Vincent Van Gogh
Autumn walkers, painting.
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crystalponti.bsky.social
The best rural writing understands that the land keeps score. Storms, droughts, and harvests all leave marks on families, shaping identity in ways city skylines never do. #BookWormSat

Art: Elaine Plesser
November 22, 2025 at 10:22 PM
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pmf-englishteacher.bsky.social
DUKE SENIOR: And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
Shakespeare, AS YOU LIKE IT, 2.1
#bookwormsat
📷 Cornell Womack as Duke Senior in “AS YOU LIKE IT, 2019 at The Old Globe, San Diego
November 22, 2025 at 10:35 PM
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pmf-englishteacher.bsky.social
Let every soldier hew him down a bough,
And bear’t before him.
Shakespeare, MACBETH, 5.4
#bookwormsat
#ShakespeareSunday
#tistheseason
November 22, 2025 at 10:54 PM
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sarahnour.bsky.social
"She dreamed of mountains she had known—the gods of forgotten but powerful religions. She had labored up their steep sides and ponderous brows; beaten through storms and clouds along their giant backbones."

—Lost Island, Barbara Newhall Follett

#BookWormSat
a mountain covered in clouds with the word orbo on the bottom
ALT: a mountain covered in clouds with the word orbo on the bottom
media.tenor.com
November 22, 2025 at 6:26 PM
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crystalponti.bsky.social
In poetry, rural imagery becomes spiritual shorthand. A single hayfield at dawn can speak more truth than an entire city block. #BookWormSat

Art: Marti Bailey
November 22, 2025 at 6:33 PM
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finnfolklorist.bsky.social
Timo K. Mukka: "Maa on syntinen laulu"(Eng. The Earth is a Sinful Song)

Timo K. Mukka’s exquisite debut novel is like a ballad – startling and beautiful in its coarseness. The story follows Martta, a young woman, and a small village in Lapland

#BookWormSat 🧵
The book cover shows a woman's face among spruce trees.
November 22, 2025 at 6:33 PM
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sarahnour.bsky.social
"Always I had known mountains... I had cast about in vain to find the meaning of their beauty and strange power: the storm of feeling with which they could shake me; the longing for them which sometimes fevered me."

—Rocks, Barbara Newhall Follett

#BookWormSat
a view of a mountain range covered in clouds
ALT: a view of a mountain range covered in clouds
media.tenor.com
November 22, 2025 at 6:35 PM
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sarahnour.bsky.social
"At sunset she was again at the peak of her mountain. The sky flushed with magic; a great cloud in the west became brilliantly fringed with gold and red-gold... and a delicate laciness of pink trailed across the zenith."

—The House Without Windows, Barbara Newhall Follett

#BookWormSat
the sun shines brightly over the mountains in the distance
ALT: the sun shines brightly over the mountains in the distance
media.tenor.com
November 22, 2025 at 6:40 PM
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joy13.bsky.social
#BookWormSat

"Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flower of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass."

Edward Thomas - Thaw
🎨Alexei Savrasov
November 22, 2025 at 7:02 PM
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crystalponti.bsky.social
Rural mysteries thrive on isolation. When everyone knows everyone, secrets must hide in plain sight... in barns, in abandoned schoolhouses, in the woods behind someone’s childhood home. #BookWormSat

Art: Joni Monroe
November 22, 2025 at 8:22 PM
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joy13.bsky.social
#BookWormSat

"... the groups of cattle formed tribes hereabout; there only families. These myriads of cows stretching under her eyes from the far east to the far west outnumbered any she had ever seen at one glance before ..."

Thomas Hardy - Tess of the D'Urbervilles
🎨Unknown Artist [Pinterest]
November 22, 2025 at 5:45 PM
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bevanthomas.bsky.social
"Clarke [saw] the path from his father’s house had led him into an undiscovered country, and he was wondering at the strangeness of it all.... The wood was hushed, and for a moment he stood face to face with a presence neither man nor beast."
- Arthur Machen, "The Great God Pan"
#BookWormSat
The great god Pan plays music in a field. Image by Carlos Schwabe.
November 22, 2025 at 5:54 PM
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janetarchaic.bsky.social
#BookWormSat rural

"…the view from the porch is one of emerald leaves with blots of pink against a blue so sparkling that it is not so much a color as the experience of light."

📘Fortune's Rocks - Anita Shreve
📷 Me (Abt 1/2 mile down from the real Fortune's Rocks, which is in Maine)
A photo of the beach, showing green shrubbery with pink beach roses, a seawall made of boulders, a sandy and rocky beach, the blue sea, a lighter blue sky, and in the distance a gambrel house. Outside the house and below the porches are massive tangles of hydrangea bushes. A front lawn spills down to the seawall, which is little more than a rocky barricade against the ocean and which is covered at this time of year with masses of beach roses. Thus, the view from the porch is one of emerald leaves with blots of pink against a blue so sparkling that it is not so much a color as the experience of light. To the west of the lawn are orchards of Sheepnose and Black Gilliflower apples, and to the north is the beach, which stretches two miles along teh coast. Fortune's Rocks is the... (from Fortune's Rocks, by Anita Shreve)
November 22, 2025 at 5:29 PM
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mccartneyjoe.bsky.social
“Now we have reached the trees, the beautiful trees. Never so beautiful as today. Imagine the effect of a straight regular double avenue of oaks, nearly a mile long, arching overhead, closing into perspective like the roof and columns of a cathedral.” ~ Our Village (1893), M.R.Mitford.
#BookWormSat
The book cover for 'Our Village' by Mary Russell Mitford, showing a quaint English village.
November 22, 2025 at 2:23 PM
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crystalponti.bsky.social
Rural stories remind readers that communities survive by interdependence. You learn who brings soup when someone falls ill, who plows the road after a storm, and who shows up even when you don’t ask. #BookWormSat

Art: Buffalo Games
November 22, 2025 at 2:33 PM
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niftybuckles.bsky.social
#BookwormSat 🤡

"The greatest privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are." — Carl Jung

🎨 Victor Nizovtsev
November 22, 2025 at 2:50 PM
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niftybuckles.bsky.social
#BookWormSat 🌹

“It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses, we must plant more roses.”
― George Eliot

🎨 Lilla Cabot Perry
November 22, 2025 at 3:04 PM
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asls.org.uk
“Ramsay ‘transformed the genre of the pastoral drama by bending it in a more “realistic” direction’. This is where Ramsay enters a rather heated and complicated British context”

—Craig Lamont unpacks Allan Ramsay’s THE GENTLE SHEPHERD
#BookWormSat #C18th
www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2023/11/clas...
‘Class’d with Tasso and Guarini’: Allan Ramsay’s The Gentle Shepherd  - The Bottle Imp
Of Allan Ramsay’s many important works, The Gentle Shepherd (1725) remains his most revered. It was first performed in Edinburgh in 1729, going on to enjoy success across Scotland, England, North Amer...
www.thebottleimp.org.uk
November 22, 2025 at 3:10 PM
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suzannef.bsky.social
“Forceless upon our backs there fall
Infrequent flakes hexagonal,
Devised in a curious style
To charm our safety for awhile
Where close to earth like mice we go
Under horizontal snow”

Edna St. Vincent Millay - The Snowstorm

#BookWormSat

🖼️ = Richard Bosman - Snowman (1984)
Black and white linocut of man walking in snow. Man is all black against a mostly white background of energetic white slashes and dots that represent snow
November 22, 2025 at 3:20 PM
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niftybuckles.bsky.social
#BookWormSat 🍂
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."

[Letter to Miss Lewis, Oct. 1, 1841]”
― George Eliot

🎨 Walt Curlee
November 22, 2025 at 3:21 PM
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crystalponti.bsky.social
In children’s literature, the countryside is often a doorway to wonder. Think of Anne of Green Gables, where meadows become imagination’s playground and every tree has a personality. #BookWormSat

Art: David Lloyd Glover
November 22, 2025 at 4:33 PM
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asls.org.uk
I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,‍‍
‍‍‍‍‍‍Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,‍‍
‍‍‍‍‍‍An’ fellow-mortal!

—Robert Burns, “To a Mouse, On turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785”
#BookWormSat #poem #C18th
To a Mouse, On turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785. Robert Burns Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty,‍‍ Wi’ bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee‍‍ Wi’ murd’ring pattle! I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion,‍‍ Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,‍‍ An’ fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave‍‍ ’S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,‍‍ An’ never miss’t! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,‍‍ O’ foggage green! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,‍‍ Baith snell an’ keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, An’ weary Winter comin fast, An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,‍‍ Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past‍‍ Out thro’ thy cell. That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,‍‍ But house or hald, To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,‍‍ An’ cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men‍‍ Gang aft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,‍‍ For promis’d joy! Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e’e,‍‍ On prospects drear! An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,‍‍ I guess an’ fear! To a Mouse, On turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785. Robert Burns Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty,‍‍ Wi’ bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee‍‍ Wi’ murd’ring pattle! I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion,‍‍ Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,‍‍ An’ fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave‍‍ ’S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,‍‍ An’ never miss’t! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,‍‍ O’ foggage green! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,‍‍ Baith snell an’ keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, An’ weary Winter comin fast, An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,‍‍ Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past‍‍ Out thro’ thy cell. That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,‍‍ But house or hald, To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,‍‍ An’ cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men‍‍ Gang aft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,‍‍ For promis’d joy! Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e’e,‍‍ On prospects drear! An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,‍‍ I guess an’ fear!
November 22, 2025 at 1:38 PM
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whatters2.bsky.social
There was so much time that marvelous summer. Day after day, mist rose from the meadow as the sky lightened and hedges, barns and woods took shape until, at last, the long curving back of the hills lifted away from the Plain.

J.L. Carr, A Month in the Country

#BookWormSat
November 22, 2025 at 11:43 AM
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theghostmonk.bsky.social
"It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."
- Arthur Conan Doyle, 'The Copper Beeches'
#BookWormSat #SherlockHolmes
An illustration by Sidney Paget from the June 1892 edition of The Strand Magazine, showing Doctor Watson, left, and Sherlock Holmes, right, in a railway carriage. The illustration is from 'The Boscombe Valley Mystery', however, not 'The Copper Beeches'. It is also one of the few illustrations of Holmes wearing the famous deerstalker hat.
November 22, 2025 at 11:54 AM
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pjrobichaud.bsky.social
‘In the hushed recesses of Hurley backwater, where the canoe may be paddled almost under the tumbling comb of the weir, he is to be looked for; there the god pipes with freest abandonment.’ — Kenneth Grahame, ‘The Rural Pan’ (1894) #BookwormSat

🎨Norman Price
A laughing Pan sits on the riverbank.
November 22, 2025 at 11:55 AM