Yes, seeing it was Lantern Night (so late!) definitely brought it to mind. Also, despite overlapping, your Athena LJ icon and your Hermione Mawrtyr icon were like a friendly beacon flaring up in an unexpected place, and I still think of that when I see your posts, now and again.
Your description of the weather brings back such memories. The setting of Bryn Mawr was so beautiful, and has only become more Brigadoon-like since I moved away from any semblance of the same seasons. I miss it more, in some ways, than the forest and rural countryside where I grew up just an hour and a half to the south (in the country, where one gave distances in time not miles).
I'm glad to hear that you're involved in alumnae stuff again. I've always had a bittersweet relationship with the alumnae doings -- I feel like, somehow, I can't go back unless I'm successful, because I have the sense that so many of us went on to do Great Things (which I'm sure is not true). I'm ashamed to show my face, like Harriet Vane, although she became more sensible about it.
And yet like imaginary Harriet and her imaginary Shrewsbury, I still feel that umbilical cord. I wish the new class all the best — what color are they? — and I still think of Bryn Mawr as home. It's a feeling of comfort to know someone else out there who knows, who remembers, that sacred space.
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Your description of the weather brings back such memories. The setting of Bryn Mawr was so beautiful, and has only become more Brigadoon-like since I moved away from any semblance of the same seasons. I miss it more, in some ways, than the forest and rural countryside where I grew up just an hour and a half to the south (in the country, where one gave distances in time not miles).
I'm glad to hear that you're involved in alumnae stuff again. I've always had a bittersweet relationship with the alumnae doings -- I feel like, somehow, I can't go back unless I'm successful, because I have the sense that so many of us went on to do Great Things (which I'm sure is not true). I'm ashamed to show my face, like Harriet Vane, although she became more sensible about it.
And yet like imaginary Harriet and her imaginary Shrewsbury, I still feel that umbilical cord. I wish the new class all the best — what color are they? — and I still think of Bryn Mawr as home. It's a feeling of comfort to know someone else out there who knows, who remembers, that sacred space.