There is much to be seen, much to be experienced on this teasingly Fall-ish day out here, on the coast.
I flew in late last night. Boston was shrouded in fog and drizzle. My flight, for only the fifth time in my life (and I fly a lot) missed the landing and revved up the engines so ferociously to reclaim height that the flight attendant (to be fair, it was only his second week) recoiled.
But leaving the airport, I remembered why Boston feels less cold than, say, Madison. It is sixty now. It was near sixty last night. It was sixty this morning.
I toyed with the idea of completely taking the day off, but chose, instead, to go to school. It is an intense pleasure for me to sit in on a good law class elsewhere and the one I attended was better for my soul than any workshop on teaching could ever be.
And so you wont get photos today of New England foliage or foods, you wont get stories of hikes and explorations. But my morning couldn’t have been more satisfying. Even if I permitted myself only one photo. Of class (or, of the handful who arrived early), where I was again the student.