I have been guilty of the same thing I love pixel of ink. Plus I also have a ton of ebooks in epub format too. I have no idea how I will read them all. So many great free books I don't know why I would need to buy any.

friedag--is one of the following Mary Oliver poems the "climbing" one you had in mind? Of the handful of poems by Oliver that I know, these are the only ones that feature climbing--but there is no ladder, unless you want to count the tree as a ladder. Happiness In afternoon I watched the she-bear; she was looking For the secret bin of sweetness-- honey, that the bees store in the trees' soft caves. Black block of gloom, she climbed down tree after tree and shuffled on through the woods. And then she found it! The honey-house deep as heartwood, and dipped into it among the swarming bees--honey and comb she lipped and tongued and scooped out in her black nails, until maybe she grew full, or sleepy, or maybe a little drunk, and sticky down the rugs of her arms, and began to hum and sway. I saw her let go of the branches, I saw her lift her honeyed muzzle into the leaves, and her thick arms, as though she would fly-- an enormous bee all sweetness and wings-- down into the meadows, the perfection of honeysuckle and roses and clover-- to float and sleep in the sheer nets swaying from flower to flower day after shining day. That final image always cracks me up--the big shaggy bear, drunk on honey, fantasizing about being a tiny little bee flying around in ectasy as she gathers the pollen for making honey all day long! Don't we sometimes long to be the exact opposite of what we really are--in this case, a bear's version of Cinderella at the ball, perhaps. LOL The Honey Tree And so at last I climbed the honey tree, ate the bodies of bees that could not get out of my way, ate the dark hair of the leaves, the rippling bark, the heartwood. Such frenzy! But joy does that, I'm told, in the beginning. Later, maybe, I'll come here only sometimes and with a middling hunger. But now I climb like a snake, I clamber like a bear to the nuzzling place, to the light salvaged by the thighs of bees and racked up in the body of the tree. Oh, anyone can see how I love myself at last! how I love the world! climbing by day or night in the wind, in the leaves, kneeling at the secret rip, the cords of my body stretching and singing in the heaven of appetite May we all discover the "secret bin of sweetness" --joy and love--and find within ourselves a "heaven of appetite" for the honey of life! I like to pair these two poems (don't know if Oliver intended that or not)--the second poem showing what she learned from the bear (from nature) about living life to the fullest ("gathering rosebuds" while we may, as our favorite 17th century poet might put it?) as she figuratively climbs the tree of sweetness that the bear literally climbed. If neither is the right poem, they are still a couple of my favorite contemporary nature poems. Maybe this is why I'm fond of bears in nature poems. Kate

Smashing staues was certainly not solely the preserve of Cromwell's men, iconoclastic fervour appeared as you say on the continent when the reformation got a bit further on than Luther - If I remember correctly, there would be well over 100 years between Luther's 95 theses (1517) and Cromwell (1649) - but England had largely escaped protestant religious fervour, preferring the more cynical exploitation of attacking Rome's power for political ends. And this perhaps is the point. There is not a single brand of protestantism, there were all types, from Henry VIII's "English Catholicism" to some real extreme loonies out there who believed really preposterous stuff. It's possibly safe to say that Cromwell appealed to the loonier end, and counted amongst his supporters people who were happy to smash heads off statues for religious reasons, but we mustn't forget that he was fundamentally a politition, soldier, republican and parliamentarian. Headless statues may be one of Cromwell's most lasting legacies, but it was not the greatest sin committed by his supporters, the Irish campaign, including the destruction of Drogheda with most of its population was a far more evil act. Possibly those defaced statues have a role in reminding us all of those dark times - a sort of negative memorial ? And then (- as this is a "readers" forum -) Cromwell shut the theatres ! Directly after the age of Shakespeare, Marlow, Johnson....and worse was yet to come....when they reopened...RESTORATION COMEDY !!! I don't think you can really blame these dreadful 17th century "Carry On" plays on Cromwell, but without him, they wouldn't have happened ;)

I got some extra Christmas/birthday money (they fall right together for me), and decided to take the plunge and Nook myself. It is due to arrive sometime in February. I am so excited and kept thinking as I was finishing my most recent read - Grave Secrets of Dinosaurs: Soft Tissues and Hard Science - how nice it would be to be on an eReader, as it is a rather large paperback. The links for the free ebooks appear to be ones that will work on any eReader, so I'm looking forward to using those sites when my Nook arrives. So glad you all are enjoying your Kindles!