Frost

We have had a few hard frosts.

The garden is done.

The tulips are planted.

We have a fire in the woodstove almost every morning.

Fall and War and Peace

I finished War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy.

I loved it.

Every minute of it.

I first considered reading it for Humanities and English Literature in high school.  

(You know you're home-schooled when you get to pick what's on your reading list.)

But I read a summary and dismissed it as a romantic drama.

The size was also slightly daunting.
I don't even know what finally possessed me to read it.
I just saw it there, a paperback that was almost as thick as is was wide, sitting on the library shelf.
I couldn't resist.
It was a challenge and I couldn't refuse.
I don't know enough about literature to feel like I could write a good critique.  

I will only say that when I read Les Miserables by Victor Hugo and The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien I had to force myself to continue.
Not once did I have to force myself to pick War and Peace back up.
I carried it around everywhere and read it whenever I could.
I'm still thinking about it, wondering how much I missed because it was so large.
Wondering when I can read it again without ruining it, or getting "burnt out".

In other news:
It's fall.
A perfect fall.
Every fall is a perfect fall.