for the remainder of the semester, your professor will be holding office hours in the hammock under the live oak

I was pretty grumbly yesterday. Part of it is the last few weeks of the semester doldrums: to be honest, I'm sort of tired of this thing, the structure of these days, and I'm looking forward to the six weeks in May-June that I won't be teaching or even in this state. Part of it is coming back from the reading I did last week, up north, where the students laughed at my jokes and lined up to get their books signed. Part of it is that I liked this town better when Jean was visiting it.

And part of it is because I am a dog, longing to be on the other side of the screen door, whatever form it takes.

So I blew off my office hours and went for a walk on campus.

This the first magnolia--southern magnolia magnolia, not the saucer magnolias that, confused, bloomed and browned over two days in January--I've seen in bloom. The petals are huge. I'll get to that.

I think there was a renegade chalk art project in progress yesterday--the other sign I encountered read You look nice today!!--but this one seemed more honest. Freshman-in-college me would have found this very profound, and not a little untrue.

One of the magnolias had dropped a petal, and I carried it around for a while, just so people would know I am a poet.

But seriously. It was huge.

With my feet for context. I wear a size nine. This petal was half my foot, or a size five.

When I got tired of carrying it around, I set it free in the pond. POET.

I don't know if the students bring the hammocks with them, or if there's just a little number of free-use hammocks, but I want one. WANT. ONE. If I had a hammock, all my office hours would be conducted from it. The students would be encouraged to bring me icy drinks--non-alcoholic, of course. I may be holding this conference from a hammock, but I am a fucking professional.