“It all got noticed: the horse’s shoulders pumping; the sunlight warping the air over a hot field; the way the leaves turn color, brightly, cell by cell; and even the splitting, half-resigned feeling you have when you notice you are walking on the earth for a while now - set down for a spell - in this particular time for no particular reason, here.” -annie dillard
This landlocked landscape changed over the weekend. Even those not paying any attention would have noticed it. It pushed at every one of our senses, invaded our bodies. Our throats got sore from biking fast under falling leaves, breathing deep the smell of farmers burning their fields outside the city limits. Every pedestrian’s footsteps amplified. This weekend, the city sang to the listening heart: “take this in, every crunch of every leaf, store these smells, take them with you into the silent and scentless season, take this colour, take this warmth.” I wish this time wasn’t so fleeting. The rush of the last days with bare arms. They are calling for snow in a week.