I went for a walk this evening around the perimeter of campus. I'd been feeling slightly sad and weary of heart, and having a good amount of studying to do this evening, it was all I could afford. The sun had just set beyond the hills to the west of campus and the ridges to the east were drenched with a golden pink glow that somehow masked the dead brown they usually are. The birds that I know are somewhere around here but usually see no sign of were out and singing to each other as they harvested their evening meal of insects. As I headed up the hill, I was reminded why skirts are usually abandoned when walking, but as I am lazy, I simply put up with having my stride shortened by nearly half. I round the corner and catch a glimpse of the near half moon, glowing with the light leftover from the sunset. My thoughts drift back to yesterday, the hike, sunset and moonglow, the sound of the birds chattering down on the lake shore in the small valley, the peaceful restlessness I had felt. I was brought back to the present by the ache and wobbling my legs as I headed down the hill. I was rather glad I was wearing a skirt then, being observed to have one's knees shake and feel like stiff jello is somewhat embarrassing (though telling about it afterward is not ;-). Wandering through the temp buildings that currently serve as offices for the school faculty, I heard the laughter of small voices from the field below. Walking up I could see a mother on a red blanket, with a little bit of a girl tottering in the grass beside her. Down she toppled, only to laugh, and again stand up, her red hair seeming to be a lost snippet of the sunset that was now fading from the hills. I stood watching, gratefully unobserved for a short period of time. I am convinced that sight has a weight of its own, for within a few moments the mother looked up, saw me on the hill and waved. Calling out to the precariously balanced tot, I waved in return and continued on, hearing the shouts and chatter of her siblings fade into the background silence. Now twilight and dusk both have given way to the night and the moon has her own proper shine. I can see little out the window, my reflection being tossed back at me through the blinds seeming to chide me for the time spent on this instead of my studies. Silly reflection, and almost equally foolish source, it will all get done in time.