Insighter: September 14
I sat on a broken acorn under a quad tree Tuesday afternoon, early afternoon, between classes, moments apparent by the bustle of students settled in. I think we have routines by now. I think some of the ooh la la has worn off among us, we are comfortable. Senior though I may be, I am a city girl, and these acorns make me happy, still. The trees still green on a quad that might as well be made exclusively for my midday class-cutting naps make me happy, still.
Has anyone else noticed our Farmer’s Market’s grown? Do all schools have goats and dogs and tarts and teas on Tuesdays because maybe for one block’s worth of campus brick, we’ve gone green. Not green like we recycle, there’s Fevans for that. More green like converting Oxygen, like participating with our surroundings. Supporting our community, the act of communing, convening, and then there’s that goat.
After rain and rain, what we have now is mild, but I kind of like it. Is it sweater time? I’ve spent the summer craving wool, and in how many months’ time will we be ready for shorts and sandals already? For now, the morning suns are cool and either the hot, wet, noontime air is dissolving or my hair has permanently adjusted to a tangle of frizz.
Learning to tame the mane, the acorns make me happy like the people on the quad. I remember picking summer camps, I remember picking colleges, based on people walking around lawns instead of over them. How could we possibly avoid grass so green. But I’m a city girl, and I know I came here and I traipsed across morning quads, a freshman, without the seasoned college knowledge of the exact quad grass drying schedule.
White sneakers got ruined freshman year, three years later it may be that I’ve stopped walking through the mud but it’s more likely that I decided it was worth it. Crunching acorns, flip flops squeaking while it’s still warm enough. It’s late in the week now but it’s time for class, and we wait for TGIF. TDIF, too, on a bench by our Dooley statue while the sweaty people pass from Dickey Drive to lunch on the steps of Cox.
The air is sweet, and we like it, and we get distracted by the lines downstairs in the food court. I try to remember, stuck in basement classrooms with no windows, or blinds drawn, or backs to doors, that this is the lovely season. That there is more than enough in that goat to make us smile on Tuesdays.
By Chloe Olewitz