A Day with Miss Austen

So, I happened to find, in my suitcase, my lovely copy of Emma that my father gave me a few years ago. I read it over several times during eleventh year, and then once again last winter. On a whim, I brought it with me to HC, but haven't gotten to perusing it since the few few weeks of school. I don't recall having brought it with me for Christmas break, but lo! it was in there with my notebook when I was rummaging through it yesterday.

I decided to start it again. By last night, I was again enthralled with the beautiful language of Austen. A friend of mine who had been visiting for a few days and I went on a walk, and he said that my choice of words reflected that I was in my "poet-mood" which I must take to mean as the mood I regularly get in when I've been immersing myself in older books. I randomly selected Wuthering Heights off my Gramma's shelf of movies (having watched it a few days before as well, but that was no matter....) and watched it and went to bed, with such rich, glorious language whirling in my head.

Today has passed with a glorious succession of Emma and Sense and Sensibility. And something like five or so dishcloths.