detour

A difficult class to teach today. Everything touches on everything else. The law is confusing. New developments, daily almost.

After the lecture (filling an 80 minute slot perfectly, with 30 seconds to spare for the proverbial: are there any questions? – as if I could respond then), I am spent.

I want a country walk. Sunny, forties, perfect.

But I am fragmented, torn between demands. It’s no use. Walking will not calm me.

But a detour might help. A two-block sidestep puts me on Union Terrace. Curious. In the fifties, students start wearing shorts here. In the forties, will they bring sack lunches to the lakefront?

They do not. Terrace chairs are stacked in tight rows, chained to each other.



winter terrace


The sun is too weak. Useful only for the shadows it throws on strips of snow.



winter sun


One person dares to go out on the lake. Sit down. Put on skates. One person.



winter daring


The rest of us are in limbo: caught between stacked chairs and thinning ice. Between good walking weather and demands, sucking us into a less sun-drenched sentiment.