Coffee, Norton, and Me

I've been back in Corvallis for about 48 hours, and I've spent at least 40 or 42 of those hours clinging to my space heater. Despite my efforts at integrating my body into the space heater, and despite my long johns, scarf, and sixteen cups of tea, I've still come down with a cold.

I went to the grocery store today and bought a box of tissues and gallon of corn oil. Tissues for me, corn oil for Muley. Muley lost a little weight while I was gone. Poor dear. As much as I'd like to believe she lost her appetite because of my absence, I think it's actually the green grass's fault. I believe she is so smitten with the fresh green grass, as limited as her access to it is, that she feels the need to demonstrate her preferences by snubbing her hay.

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This morning I took a walk across campus. The green grass was so green and the air was so fresh, I found myself laughing aloud. I was wearing my pink rain boots and several blocks from home I surprised myself by jumping up and down in a puddle. I really hadn't planned it -- I was just walking past a puddle, and then next thing I knew, I was jumping in it. I laughed some more and waved my yellow dinosaur umbrella around for good measure. Then I pulled myself together and continued on my way home.

But not before I noticed the rhododendrons. The air is so fresh today -- every day -- that I could smell the wet rhododendron blossoms when I walked past them. I think I must have gotten used to the city air in Chiayi, because this morning I felt so satisfied taking huge gulps of air. It tasted so clean and healthy that I felt extremely happy.

More than the air was making me happy, though. I was walking across campus because I had just been to the library. I was in the library because I wanted to check out the Norton Anthology of Postmodern Poetry. While I was in the library I also chanced across a magnificent collection of Chinese poems put together by Kenneth Rexroth, and I had just spent ten or fifteen minutes reading these poems aloud to a captive audience.

I hadn't originally planned on going to the library when I left home early this morning. When I left home I went to the Beanery and read the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry with half a cup of coffee and half a scone. The introduction was so exciting and fascinating and illuminating that I felt I immediately needed to secure the postmodern edition of the anthology, as well. And so I bundled myself off to the library.

I hadn't really planned on going to the Beanery, either. When I first left the house I went onto campus to use a computer. The Beanery visit was a side-effect of my jet-lag. I woke up at 5:45 this morning and felt ready to start my day. Instead, I spent forty-five minutes enjoying the rising light from my pillow. When I finally parted from my blankets and stepped into the day, I wasn't planning on the Beanery or Norton or the library or puddle-jumping. They were the effect of spring, perhaps.

I think I've found a new favorite recreation in coffee and the Norton Anthology, though.

I visited Muley after dropping off the heaviest of my library books at home. After a thorough grooming, I turned her out on the green grass and read Tu Fu to her while she grazed. I don't think she paid much attention. But that's spring for you.