all that i care for is

my friend has woken up already, gotten coffee, and continued reading thoreau, as i checked my email messages and news. it's not his first time through walden i know--it wouldn't be mine either, yet this time through is richer for both of us now that we both have studied thoreau so intently--i'm reminded that graduate school is good for something after all, and that's a pleasant thought for a busy phd student. we spent most of yesterday talking, sharing quotes from books we're reading, thoughts about programs and writers, all the while eating good food.

today promises to be just as pleasant, though the cool air of the outside world feels crisp compared to the warm and pleasant odors of cafes, living rooms, and restaurants. and the smell of this season is almost too much for me, flooding me with memories of hikes back home, of warmups before end-of-season soccer games, of decomposing leaves in my favorite forests. especially the last of those. there's something about cool--still tolerable--air of my face, and perhaps the hint of the smell in the air. i can't think of anything i'd rather be doing than walking slowly through a forest, leaves bending and sometimes breaking, like once-malleable plastic turning to thin and somewhat flexible glass before decomposing at speeds that neither glass nor plastic can hope to rival. i've hiked in many forests, in floodplains and creekbeds all over the area. and today, with the cool air of autumn, i'm ready for that kind of hike again.

i'm a busy guy, needing to grade an unfortunately large number of papers this weekend, so i compromise, and i mean that in both senses of the word--the pragmatic and pejorative--allowing myself some enjoyment while getting some work done, but also selling my desires short--this is a special day, a sunday when a best friend is visiting from a distant place (california). it won't be the perfect day, the perfect walk, in the perfect streambed. but it'll have to be good enough, to be one of the memories i keep from this fall, the kind of memories that keep me happy and stable through the cold winters when i spend so much time indoors. it'll have to be good enough. and it is. combined with a frisbee game later that day, the short walk refreshes, clarifies, makes real that i'm a person, living a real life, not just a being that grades papers, reads books, and does research. these fall walks make me happy, give me motivation and meaning.

although i'm often wrong about these sorts of things (and quite enjoy being wrong), i think that the end of the warmer side of autumn has come--it's likely the rest of the official season will be much cooler, with more wind, snow, and cold. winter is coming, and i'm committed to enjoying it as much as i can (i'm an outside sort of person, and it's harder for me to be outside as much in the winter here).

so i figured i'd try out the following--show you a few of my memorable moments of fall, at least a few that i captured on camera--there were many more. even though it has been a busy semester, it's also been an important time for me--i've learned much about myself and my desires for the rest of my life. i guess i'd even say it's been full of meaning.

i'll start with my new neighborhood. i really love where i'm living now--part of it is the house, but i also really like the neighborhood--the cafe a block away, the relaxed setting. i think this picture gets at some of the beauty of the place--though i walk here often, most often these walks have been after dark, and it's nice that i feel safe here, that it's quiet enough to collect your thoughts rather than worry about traffic.



the neighborhood is great, but perhaps this picture of the creek just south of my house captures the beauty and wonder i find in little walks, whether i'm with someone else, or by myself. this particular picture was taken the day i describe in the short narrative above--the creek and the trees and the sky and the air were beautiful that day. thanks, kevin, for going on your walk, and for letting me walk a ways with you.



it's hard to follow that picture with any depiction of natural beauty, so i'll turn instead to a place that holds great memories along with hopes for the future. this spring i'll be teaching at the college i attended just a few years ago--it's kind of a quick return i'll admit, but i'm excited, and quite truthfully, there are few things i'd like more than to be teaching at this particular place. the small number of places that hold this much meaning in my life are limited, and the very building in which i'll have my office is the same building that first inspired me to attend college at saint olaf. it looks beautiful any time of year, but when the vines have changed color as they did this fall, i find it quite spectactular.



i find a lot of beauty in natural things, but i think that holland hall manages to bring that same kind of beauty (slightly transformed, organized, designed) into the world of people and buildings. it sets the bar high for how a building should age with the landscape, should grow into its life as it ages. fall leaves capture my attention in much the same way, whether they're on trees, on the ground, twirling through the air in miniature swirls, or breaking into pieces and becoming soil. these leaves capture a softer kind of beauty as they moved in the breeze.



finally, the beauty of autumn can be shown in the sunset skies, when so many of the things i love about our earth come together. if i look for hope and engaged action in the world and look beyond the people i could mention--people who are working just as hard as i am to shape the world--when i look for this kind of hope displayed in the landscape, i find it every time. here i find it in a sunset framed by the work of caring students, engaged faculty, devoted institutions, and in the good work of many people, most of whom i'll never meet. i'm thankful for the diverse group of people and non-people that shaped my experience of autumn this year.




where you've been hiding by architecture in helsinki

stuck at your front gate
with some pictures i just want to hand ya
almost made the door knock twice
broke down on your verandah

turn the dry concrete, into wet concrete

i can't find you anywhere
i can't find you anywhere
so i wrote you a letter in capital letters
saying all that I care for, all that i care for is...

where you've been hiding,
where you've been hiding

which way the habits collect neatly
upon your stairs
which way we'll slide down them discreetly
leaving 'em for dead

when I find...

where you've been hiding