The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
-T. S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

I find it hard to remember that it is nearly October. I haven't really been at school a month yet, have I? Yet, slowly, the temperatures are dropping from the 90s to the 80s to the 70s, and then I'm wearing sweatshirts in the evenings and sleeping under a blanket. Here and there, I catch glimpses of yellow and orange in the treetops.

The air doesn't yet have that autumn crispness to it, though. I haven't seen wobbly Vs of geese honking across the sky, or seen the moon rise low and rusty red. Maybe my calendar will tell me tomorrow that it's October, but I don't believe it.

I spent the weekend between dreamworlds. Friday evening freed me at last from academic burdens and led me back to the home I've long found in music. Al and I schemed and posted signs and organized our very own folksing. As I looked around the room that night at familiar and unfamiliar faces, I felt a sense of awe. I'd caused something - I had started something, and now near-strangers were crowded together, playing guitars and mandolins and hammer dulcimers, singing "The Boxer" and "This Land Is Your Land," and they were smiling. It felt incredible.

On Saturday I ventured into a different dream, chasing my freedom around the city. Hollis and I wandered Philadelphia as our sandals would have us wander, ogling cooking supplies and thirty-pound provolone cheeses and calligraphy inks at Pearl. We went to the 9th Street Italian Market and supplied ourselves for dinner. Fresh basil, garlic and tomatoes, pasta - so fresh, we watched it being cut at Talluto's - and cannoli for dessert.

Today brings reality back, but... the burdens are a little lighter when I know I can set them down now and again.