Leaves Fall, Children Stumble; November is Upon Us

It's November, already. Specifically, it is mid-November, already. How do we all feel about this? I feel dazed.

It's been a couple of months since I started grad school. Grad school is wonderful.

The anniversary of the Egging of My Corolla passed without incident. On Nov. 3rd I spent a moment, a loving gaze, a half hour removing leaves, seed-copters, detrital tree matter from the nooks, crannies, trunk, hood of my car. Tree matter gets everywhere.

I love autumn scents, especially right around now. In October, leaves change colors and cling, stubbornly, to their branches. By November, the futile grasp is broken, overcome, gravity prevails, the leaves fall. Tumultuously, dramatically, silently, fall. Here I imagine a few days' period of separation anxiety. Once it is clear that the process is irreversible, the leaves settle and get down to the business of decaying. Herein the source of wonderful autumnal scents, the smell of decaying plant matter. Add some burny smoky smells from wood fires and chimneys, and you have November. (Science! Autumn smells good due to the breakdown of complex hydrocarbons!)

A new thing: I live in an apartment between Fresh Pond and Harvard Square. Nearby are two or three elementary and pre-schools. I had interacted with small children on campus before: for instance, small children existed in Adams House. However, those small children existed in an environment suited for young adults; it was jarring, sometimes, (though always delightful) to see them. Now I see kids in more traditional environments -- in two straight lines, holding hands with their walk-buddies, herded across the street from their school by teachers who are my age, possibly younger. Where were these kids going? I remember myself crossing streets in lines of two, noting interesting leaves, chestnuts, acorns, patterns on the sidewalk. I remember plastic raincoats, and decaying smells. But I do not recall where were going, or if we were going anywhere at all, in particular. Perhaps we were just taking a walk, and I got exactly what was aimed for out of it: leaves, chestnuts, fall detritus. I think this is the point of fall walks.

Motives aside, I observed what I think is my favorite method of child-arrangement while walking across the public park called Cambridge Common. A rope was held on either end by a towering adult; one in front, the other at the end of the line. From this axial rope stemmed symmetric rope-branches, to each of which was tied a single pre-schooler. Sixteen small children were thus arranged in two even lines, and securely attached to the adults responsible for them. As I watched the toddler chain-gang progress across the Common, I thought to myself: Yes. There was something to be admired in this. While restrictive, it was simple and efficient. Similar things could be done with drunkards.

At any rate, I heartily approve of fall walks, toddlers, and also drinking. To follow this line of thought, I will wind down this post and pour myself something strong and smoky. I hope you all are well, and kind regards,

R.