The End of Something

Back to the grindstone. The new academic year starts tomorrow at my university. I'm really not dreading it, though I am registering some dim recognition that soon, many more people will be placing many more demands on me. This doesn't seem good, but it lacks the detail to rouse any particular misgivings.

I am looking forward to the chance to do some new things with my old courses, and to teaching a new one. The thought of the new year also brings something which rarely enters my life these days-- invigorating, open-ended curiosity. What will my students be like? Will my course ideas pan out? What interesting classroom exchanges lie ahead, and how soon will I face one of those Dark Nights of the Soul when I'm gulping coffee and grading papers at 3:00 AM? As much as I'll miss my summer freedom (read: fishing), it will be interesting to teach again, if only to see what happens next. Which is fitting: when I think of my career, it often seems less like a heroic saga than a pulp novel.

Wonderful weather we've had here lately. The scorching days of earlier in the summer have passed, for good, I hope. We've had afternoons in the 70s or low 80s with mild humidity, and the kind of nights that make falling asleep feel like gradually dissolving in a cool spring. I'd be quite happy to see this pattern continue until frost.

The weather forecast looks even better up north--nights down into the 40s and days below 70 through midweek, before a return to the 80s by Thursday. That, and the thought of camping along the Au Sable and being in woods usually deserted by this point in summer, has made up my mind to fish the Au Sable later this week. I guess I wouldn't badly regret missing out on local fishing if I went up there, but if I didn't I'd be thinking frequently about how the action might on the Au Sable. Plus, there are plenty of days left before freeze-up when I can fish down here. While I may, I'll gather the rosebuds that freckle the backs of brown trout.