Fall at Swelles

with the air turning cooler, crisper, fresher, this is the time of year my mind always goes back to a certain verdant oasis 13.5 miles outside of boston. and when i say always i mean this year and last year since the previous four years i was actually in said oasis. at this time of year, the place smelled greenish brown, you could just begin to hint out the undercutting ice to the air temperature, and there was no place where the sky got bluer or the leaves redder. i have no desire to head back to musty classrooms or required lectures, but right about now i have the strongest urge to lay facedown on severance green on a big soft blanket and not move.