Autumn

It's fall. Not just because the equinox was yesterday, but because the other day, as I was dozing on the couch in the middle of Friedrich Schlegel's Lucinde (on the nap-inducing aesthetic of universal poetry and the religion of love) a flock of geese woke me up with what sounded like a heated argument about which way was south.
Also, the leaves are turning, you can get apples but not much else at the farmer's market, I have to write my first grad school paper, swimsuits are on clearance, and we're having tornadoes.