From the Vines

Saturday morn, I awoke late and decided that I was definitely in need of a working alarm clock. Noting that I had not eaten since the breakfast on the plane, I consumed the chocolate bar the dear Junior Deans had given each of us with our orrientation packets.

I briefly prayed that someone else would be headed into town that I might safely join them, and journeyed downstairs. At once, I met with a group on their way out, and took to the path alongside them. The path was an enchanting one, a feast for the eyes of the girl from the desert. Conversation was merry, and often turned itself to our surroundings. The walls were aged and crumbled with the centuries. They were magnificient. No painting of any historical moment looked like history more than these ancient bricks.

We came to a bridge, called the Magdeline. The river below was flowing well, as rain has apparently been rather constant here. But, our eyes were not lowered. We heard the chime of ringing bells. Before us, a tree allowed the spires of one edifice to be glimpsed. Those towers pointing toward the heaven let our eyes join our ears and hearts. Heaven above was praised in all that I beheld, heard, and felt.

Through town we ventured and bought those daily things which are too mundane to blog about. I am in Oxford and will tell you tales of the spires, but not of my shampoo and outlet adaptors.

We returned to the Vines for a BBQ (apparently of a British fashion). My first meal in Oxford! Throughout this time, I spoke with old and new friends and generally slipped toward slumber. After a game of Mafia, then another, the evening was done. I went to fill my new diary and do devotions for the day.