choco_frosh: (Default)
The Five Seasons of Maine

“Spring begins in March,” I remember writing, back when I was seven or thereabouts. “Some people think it begins in April, but it’s really March.”
I’m not really sure who the “some people” were—any more than I can remember why my first- or second-grade teachers handed us the large booklets of sketching paper on which I recorded my observations on the change of the seasons. It may have been only me, rather than my classmates, who thought that Spring began in April, until revelation from a calendar or a teacher informed me otherwise. But in any case, I had cause to be confused. For I grew up in Maine, and northern Maine does not have a spring. Read more... )
choco_frosh: (Default)
8:15 PM

The chair in my carrel seems to have acquired a cushion. It’s light blue polyester, and rather stained, but it unquestionably does keep my behind more comfortable as I sit here typing this. I guess it belongs to the undergrad who was usurping my work space yesterday evening, who was rather surprised when I showed up to reclaim it, and still more surprised when I nonchalantly reached over her to grab my gloves and hat from the shelf, and asked her to pass me the book on the end of the row. I expect at some point she’ll return to reclaim it, trying to remember where she came to study in peace and quiet a day ago. But for the moment, it’s keeping the calluses on my butt under control. Read more... )
choco_frosh: (Default)
OK, forget what I said about spring. It´s now snowing. On the daffodils, admittedly, but that just makes things more depressing.

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