The weather has finally begun to warm back up from the past week of rain and lower temperatures. The wind is calm, and the sun is setting here in Hanover, and I can see the warm evening light illuminating the building across the street from here. Above that building, the moon sits against a bright blue sky, one edge fading out — not yet full, but nearly so. The streets are busy with cars, alumni departing after reunion weekend, and the sidewalks have quieted into their summer slumber, the occasional sleepy stroller meandering from one destination to the next without the purpose and quickstep of the mid-semester streets.

I like it at this time of day, this time of year. It’s quiet and calm and drenched with life all around, muting what little traffic there is. I can hear the birds quieting for the night, singing goodnight to each other in the trees. The Green is emerald, verdant from the recent rains, crossed by sandy pebbled paths creating a patchwork of shapes and contrasts for the eye in the dwindling light.

Does this truly need any context to be placed? Is this not worthwhile on its own, sans personal reflection? Not all moments must be marred by the memories of times past. It need not be spoken to be made apparent. Nor, sometimes, should it.