How firm a foundation, O saints of the Lord
Is laid for your faith in his excellent word
What more can he say than to you he has said
Who unto the Savior for refuge has fled
~How Firm a Foundation, LSB 728~

“Mom there’s nothing worse than having to write out long definitions.” He said it with a boyish matter-of-factness that made me laugh, that made me forget, if only for a moment, about winter and darkness and 15-page papers. But there he was, across the room in his chair, and I on the living room couch with my blanket, waiting for a returned again weakness to pass. I like it here, when afternoon time comes, when the boys return home with their backpacks and stories.

In the early weeks when school had started, they set their alarms one day for 6:30. Going through some sort of childhood freedom withdrawal, they made a fire and played in the backyard until 7, the time when they now regularly have to get up. It’s not like they even slept much longer before, but I guess there is a difference between casually rolling out of bed, eating breakfast in your pajamas with nowhere to go, versus having to be out the door by 7:30. I don’t mind the routine.

This time of the year the leaves actually fall, gently like snowflakes except that they’re leaves. The acorns and walnuts had their time and are done. One year it rained acorns, for almost two weeks it sounded like rain. The peak autumn colors have passed, which usually happens after a rain somewhere. Many people have commented on how beautiful the trees have been this year, and I have to agree with them. They say it depends on the temperatures and the timing of the rains.