how can such a Nordic city make me sweat

For how much longer will these leaves last? As the days compress into an almost unbearable sliver of sunlight, and I calculate how much shorter they have yet to become, I think that I could make it til the solstice if only these colors stuck around. Snatches of piercing blue sky and the preponderance of yellow alders, fallen leaves tessellating in the grass.

The leathery smell of oak leaves, their perfume deepening as they nestle into the damp soil. It's so perfectly autumn, but also par for the course: my heart aches with the beauty of these fugitive moments, every single time. Oh, but I'm a sensitive soul.

Yesterday I saw a tiny dead bird on my way out the door of my office building, and then on my run I saw a stiff, laid-out squirrel. Both appeared to have died without trauma. Is that the signal of winter's onset? Duly noted, Nature.

Last night during my run, one of my makeshift buns caught resonance, and bounced uncomfortably. I finally pulled it out and ran with my hair down, which I would normally never, ever do. But it was cold and still out, and the shadow of my hair flapping behind me under the streetlights made me feel like a warrior.

Today I walked the best long route on campus, which I've been avoiding for two weeks. The fountain was turned off, so I could climb the rocks back into it. Absolutely no one was out, save the kids at the daycare center.