I grant that today was the day before a three-day weekend, but the Carleton campus has been deader than the King of Pop all week. The only excitement anyone can find is a roofing project that requires a gargantuan red crane, apparently borrowed from Dubai, and periodic showers of roofing debris. If you visit the campus center after the snack bar closes (at 1:30 pm! well before my afternoon iced-coffee jones kicks in!), you’ll probably find only some dusty chairs, a groggy clerk in the bookstore, and the post office’s two bins of undeliverable magazines. (Anyone for fifty copies of the current Economist? Or twice as many copies of ESPN The Magazine?) In making – over the course of the week – four round-trip bike commutes and three walks to and from the Rec Center, I’ll bet I didn’t encounter a dozen people, total. Hell, in the Arb, I saw about three times as many red squirrels as people. And I saw three of those surly rodents.
Oh well. The plants in the little garden plot on the lawn between Olin, Goodsell, and Boliou have all sprouted now, as have signs all over campus inviting anyone – anyone? anyone! – to go ahead and pick whatever’s ripe. Anyone? Anyone! I don’t know about you, but I’m having radishes for lunch on Monday.
And the trees! God. The maples and oaks are shimmering with life. If you get too close, you might get knocked down by the photosynthesis. I discovered this beauty in the Upper Arb, just north of the concrete bridge near Bell Field – sublime, in the truest sense of beautiful, awe-inspiring, and a little bit frightening. This giant has already seen more summers than I ever will.
I haven’t seen that much sun in weeks.
“the Carleton campus has been deader than the King of Pop all week. ” – you made me blow coffee out of my nose!