It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life. ~P.D. James
I went for a walk in the dry fall sunshine yesterday and the odor of dry leaves, dust and harvested fields met my nose. To me, the smell of fall is the smell of promise. It reminds me of my university days when I was young and eager and filled top full with hopes and dreams.
There was so much energy and excitement on campus in the fall; going for orientation, getting my photo taken for my ID card, visiting all the student activity booths in the Butterdome,
free beer in the Quad.
Before frost and snow and midterms set in with a vengeance I love the smell. It was filled with potential of great things to come.
Like new learning,
Fall is usually associated with endings; the end of summer with its end of long days of sunshine, green grass and flowers. To be replaced with fields of stubble instead of grain, the migration of geese south instead of newly hatched goslings swimming on dugouts in the spring.
But not for me.
Fall reminds me of starting out on my own in the big city. It reminds me of beginnings the newness of experience, of growing up.
And I miss that feeling. I miss the feeling of setting out on a new adventure, a new phase of life. And the smells I encounter the mornings of this month have me considering ways in which I can recreate this feeling of possibility and adventure without having to transplant myself to another city and fork out tuition and still maintain a steady wage.
So far I’ve come up blank,but I’m not giving up.
The smell of fall compels me…