October 19, 2008
My stroll today was a most sobering walk indeed. I closed the covers of the book that I was reading and placed my pen and my highlighter on the desk. I threw my jacket on and headed for the red exit sign which, of course, led to the door—a big glass door. I opened it and walked and could see the remnants of the fading sun. Leaving my hands in the pockets of my jacket and bracing myself for the coolness of the air, I stepped outside.
I walked through the green grass along Minor Field which, surrounded by loping hills and trees of various kinds and colors, felt like another world. The sun had now set and the sky, filled with those beautifully indecisive colors of night and day, began to fade azure. The crisp air of autumn wrapped itself around my arms. I exhaled into the evening and saw my breath hanging in the air, then become invisible, ascending above me. I enjoyed the fiery colors of the leaves and the tension of their stillness in the mild, windless air.
Before I decided to return to my studying, I surveyed, with my ears this time, the sounds around me and listened to the rustling of leaves. All was quiet for a moment, until, again, more rustling. Walking closer, I approached the trees in the glen, and looked with the mere expectation of finding a bird or a squirrel, but with the hope of seeing a deer. I inched closer to the sound and this time was able to witness the beauty with my eyes that I had pleasure of listening to the moments prior. And as I returned to my studies, I felt refreshed.