Science Hall.

I’m sitting here in 550, one of the Geography graduate student offices in Science Hall. It’s up at the top of the building, in the turret, and it has an incredible view of the campus, the city, and the lake. Of course, it’s snowing out, so visibility isn’t fabulous, but there’s something wonderful about being way up high during a snowstorm, watching the currents of air rise and fall and twirl into vortices as they whip around the buildings. I can see wraiths of snow blowing off the roof of the Historical Society: and, in case this doesn’t mean much to you, may it be duly noted that Science Hall and the Historical Society are among the older and lovelier buildings on the Madison campus, which isn’t even to get to the Union, just across the way here, with its green tile roof and — well, in the snow, it’s all quite a lovely picture.
My housemates are geographers, which is why I happen to be here just now; but they are downstairs at the weekly Yi-Fu Tuan lecture, which is where Paul is as well. I’ve got the office to myself, huge arched windows and old wooden and Steelcase desks and heavy wooden filing cabinets and slate chalkboards and high ceilings and all, the radiators singing with steam and the storm blowing around outside. I’ve got two books just checked out from the library, a draft of my MA paper in front of me, and a growing sense of optimism about the whole endeavor: my friends will be downstairs waiting for me when the lecture is over, beers are waiting up State Street, and, honestly, at this particular moment, little could be better.


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