Walking alongside Peabody Street, Cornelia and Magnus beckon to me before disappearing into an opening between two maple trees. The tips of the maple leaves, a tell-tale sign of the coming autumn, look as if they have been dipped in a red paint. Looking through the canopy, the sunlight filters through onto the path ahead—sending splotches of light onto the forest like a Jackson Pollock painting. All we can hear are the sound of our footsteps as the five of us step, in sync, through the sylvan trail. The scenery is beautiful, and smiling I try to take it all in.
Growing up in Alaska, I fail to remember a fall season that lasted longer than two weeks. Back home, the leaves would fade—turning a palish yellow hue—and then, at the mercy of a glacial wind, blow into the air and away from our yard forever. I never enjoyed fall back home, but here at Groton, it might be my favorite time of year. It was recently Surprise Holiday, a break from class for students and an opportunity for us to venture off campus. Instead of hopping on a bus into Boston, I opted to walk into the town of Groton with a few friends and have lunch.
Together, we meandered through the forest on a bike trail, and eventually found our way to the restaurant. Sipping a berry lemonade while waiting for my Reuben to come, I got to catch up with Lola and Will. We reflected on our year so far and laughed over stories from the past. It was a refreshing change of pace.