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I just got back from a walk. Today is what I think the English would call ‘cobwebby.’ It’s ice-cold (I had to wear three jackets, including my trenchcoat), drizzling, grey, and still. I think the stillness is what I like best.

Oh!—And there were wrens. They’re so small that one could fit in my cupped hands, and as bright-eyed as an English robin. The robin reminds me of The Secret Garden, or the little fellow I saw in Inbhir Ness.

The fallen leaves are all brown and beginning to turn into loam, and almost all the trees are leafless so that you can see the moss and lichen, and the bark patterns.

I didn’t see any squirrels out today, they must be burrowed down. They amuse me every morning as I walk to classes; they’re almost as funny critters as cats. One the other day had so many leaves stuffed in his mouth for his nest that it’s a wonder he didn’t lose his footing and fall from the tree.

One last description before I go back to studying for history:

There’s this huge sycamore tree outside Edens (the tree’s trunk is so huge that I think it would take about five people finger-tip to finger-tip to reach around it), and they’ve strung beautiful blue lights from it.

It makes me want to get to Christmas sooner.

And to get home.

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