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puttering; nothing so nice as wasting time, when you have n’t any; the swamps we did not touch
...The swamps we did not touch. Swamps and war. . . . That year almost everybody that had a swamp, left it.
July 7.
Having finished a chunk of work, I spent the whole morning puttering; nothing so nice as wasting time, when you have n’t any to waste. I puttered in the garden; drew breaths of idle joy, picked dead flowers, and took one entire film of irrational garden pictures, bending a pear-tree branch in the little orchard all out of shape to get one particular view with a huge white poppy — the first one out — for foreground. (Babs has been amusing herself with “close-ups” of some of the flowers, and got a weird but fascinating one of snapdragon.)
Later, while boiling asparagus, I kept dashing to the door to hear frogs, see the leaves fiddle, etc...
ex Anne Bosworth Greene, Dipper Hill (1925) : 249
U Michigan copy/scan (via google books) : link
same (via hathitrust) : link
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Anne Bosworth Greene (1878-1961), writer and artist
“Born in England, although lived most of her life in America. She lived on a farm in Vermont, where she kept horses and Shetland ponies.”
source : link
“Anne Bosworth Greene Is Dead; Writer on Nature Topics was 83”
New York Times obituary (July 28, 1961) : link