Last year, around this time, New England was receiving the remnants of tropical depressions, recovering from Irene, and heating up fast. Trails were muddy, rocks wet and slick, t-shirts always soaked in sweat. I sat in misery on the 4th floor, the heat of 4 floors below creeping up.
So far this year, we've only had one real fall rain, a couple showers, and a lot of beautiful days. While a run doesn't have quite the same umph to it when roots and rocks are dry, the beauty and coloration of a legitimate New England fall bring an equal distraction. We're just getting into the reds after a brief glimpse of yellow high-up, and soon official ski practices will start and hopefully snow will follow (though from the the snow gods we've already learned that Telluride and Park City got a nice dump this morning). Williams College officially turned on the heating plant this morning, and hall mates have started to complain about the influx of cold air from under my door. A bear head graces our living room, and a vintage Monoplane radio-flyer-eqsue sled wishes for a trip outside.
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