Lenawee Smiles: Books go well with a comfy chair, coffee and a napping cat

“And the days dwindle down to a precious few, September…”

That song always begins its slow parade through my mind as autumn begins its majestic march toward winter. Some trees are in a hurry to turn bright red. Others’ leaves begin spinning to the ground before they have turned yellow.

It is getting dark very early now.

Where was I going with this? Right. Trees produce the wood that is used for the paper on which is printed the words that comprise books … the books that I so enjoy reading.

I am still one of those left who will never want to read from my laptop, iPhone or any other device.

I love to open a book — particularly a used book, the older the better — and inhale the aroma that arises from its pages. They are yellowed. Sometimes the ink is a bit faded.

I like to think that the essences of all the people who have held that book before me will come out to greet me when I start turning pages.

Was there a young wife, waiting for letters from her husband who was fighting in the Pacific during World War ll, reading this book? Was there a high school senior struggling through it to write a book report?

Had a farmer’s wife gotten it from the library and was reading it between gathering eggs and baking bread?

Perhaps a medical student was balancing it with studying anatomy.

This book’s cover is showing signs of heavy use. Its corners are shredding. It looks like a dog might have tried to chew on it. One of the title pages is stained with something of substance. A few pages are torn.

The book has been through many hands and survived to tell its tale.

It was meant for me.

I found it on a sale table at a bookstore for a dollar. The author is well-known.

It is a treasure.

This book requires the lengthy use of a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee and a napping cat companion. How many “Cs” can you fit into one sentence?

I managed to collect all of them one afternoon, opened my book and began to lose myself in it.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s “Listen! the Wind” is what I am reading. It happens to be a first edition, and, I am told, not worth very much in currency. But it is worth a great deal to me in terms of its story. She and her husband, Charles Lindbergh, flew from Africa to South America in 1933. This book tells the story of that flight.

This is by no means her only book. Her diaries and letters emerged from publishing houses along with other books detailing parts of her life.

This is a slim volume, its covers are protected in a dull red linen. Its dust jacket disappeared long before I purchased the book. It was published in 1938.

It is in good condition considering its age.

I think about the horror the Lindberghs experienced: the kidnapping and death of their baby. What remarkable strength they had to reknit their lives and continue to fly as they did.

It is not unusual for me to have a couple of books next to me at the same time. I put the Lindbergh book aside and picked up another favorite: “Jamaica Inn.”

Daphne DuMaurier’s dark novel, “Jamaica Inn.” It is the story about Mary Yellan who is left alone when her mother dies. She must sell her farm and goods to go live with her Aunt Patience and Uncle Joss at Jamaica Inn. She finds this place a remote and threatening inn and her formerly gay and happy aunt now a sad and featureless woman.

Mary’s story is one of fear, courage, danger and finally safety.

As I read “Jamaica Inn,” I remembered visiting an actual Jamaica Inn in Cornwall some years ago. It was not a place of smugglers and a drunken owner. It was an older building owned by a young, pleasant couple. They had a large parrot perched at one end of the bar. It managed to say “Hello!” quite often if you spoke to it.

I suppose I should stop reading and do something productive: vacuum the dining room or mop my bathroom. Or, perhaps just let the cat continue his soft snoring and keep reading.

My coffee is cold … how many more “cees” can I use?

Susan Keezer lives in Adrian. Send your good news to her at lenaweesmiles@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Susan Keezer: Books go well with a comfy chair, coffee and a napping cat