Today, after studying for some hours, I took a break and took a book outside with a cup of tea and a block of Monterey Jack cheese and a jar of fig jam. It was so nice and so photogenic that I was moved to take a picture. I couldn't pick between two of the pictures, so in a burst of extravagance (completely in character, of course), I am including both.
I am also including a paragraph from Persuasion that struck me in quite a new way this time:
"Mr. Elliot was rational, discreet, polished, but he was not open. There was never any burst of feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight, at the evil or good of others. This, to Anne, was a decided imperfection. Her early impressions were incurable. She prized the frank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others. Warmth and enthusiasm did captivate her still. She felt that she could so much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or said a careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind never varied, whose tongue never slipped."
I know that I ought to appreciate the emotionally reserved personality more, but it is so much easier to be with the unreserved.