Joy of Reading ~ Burnt Mountain

...from Burnt Mountain by Anne Rivers Siddons

I pattered down the steps and into high June on the river, buzzing with faraway insects and trilling with birdsong and smelling of wild honeysuckle from the river woods and cultivated blossoms from our garden, and fresh-mown green grass.  I twirled around three times on my bare feet and toppled over into the cool, damp grass, head back, face tipped up to the sun, eyes closed under its gentle fist.  It seemed to me at that moment that every atom in my body stretched itself up toward the sun, that my blood sang with the air and the running river, and that I would forever be as happy as I was at that moment.