I may never be happy, but tonight I’m a content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. Now I know how people can live without books, without college. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I’d call myself a fool to ask for more…
The Journals of Sylvia Plath, July 1950
I smile each time I see the name “Sylvia Plath” now. I can see I’m going to buckle under your influence and actually get some of her stuff to read. I even met a women who went out with Ted Hughes, after he left her, so there is a bit of a connection