Vista 5

It’s 8pm on Tuesday night, and because of a massive overwhelming never-ending flood of work I’ve had this week, I haven’t had a chance to come to my nature spot until now.  OK, maybe I could’ve come earlier today, but I secretly wanted to visit the grassy hill at night, because I feel like every week I end up going at the same time, which is getting boring.

  I immediately regret this decision.  It’s FREEZING.  My hands are shaking as I’m typing and this entry is going to take twice as long to write because I have to go back and correct half the words because they’re not even English, they’re icicle language or something.

            This is the first time I’ve seen my place in the dark.  Thankfully it’s not pitch black.  There are lights that illuminate the pathways and the tree-house stairway.  In fact, it’s interesting because I can see the stairway more clearly now than I can during the day.  It really does twist around like a snake.  There’s fencing on the sides, should someone fall, and thick black shiny railings for those who need to steady themselves.

            I haven’t been here in two weeks, and the leaves really have changed since my last visit.  While some are still green, many are bright orange, the tips blending to squash yellow. They are the colors of autumn apples, and especially right now, in the dark, this whole place reminds me of trick-or-treating on Halloween night as a child.  And I’m very scared. 

Every night I face the dilemma of whether or not I want to walk to class, knowing that it will be dark by the time I have to walk home.  This neighborhood is very safe, but still, it’s always worrisome to be walking home alone in the dark.  I can’t believe that soon the clocks will change and I’ll be walking to and from class in the pitch black.

            Someone just walked by.  OH MAN.  “What is this crazy girl doing?” she’s thinking.  I look insane.  And I’m the one who’s scared?  I’m crouching against the side of the hill with my laptop on my knees, wearing a big furry Russian bomber hat typing in the dark. Sketchy sketchy.  She’s just walking to class probably.

            Not a star in the sky.  What is it about Pittsburgh?  Rain every morning, cloudy every afternoon.  I have a feeling the winter is not going to be to my liking.  The grass beside me is shivering.  No, it’s not the wind, I swear.

A DEER.  Oh my god.  Two deer just walked by.  They saw me, stopped quick, then darted into the woods.  If that’s not some sort of sign, I don’t know what is.  My first Pittsburgh deer.  I would not see that in the daytime.  That made this frozen night escapade worth it.

I’m noticing now that language is sporadic when you’re in a situation like this.  I don’t have the patience or the facility to use long sweeping prose.  My hands are shivering and I feel like if I don’t write as quickly as possible my joints will freeze up.  But seeing the deer, characters that I’ve paid so much attention to in my writing over the last few weeks, really is an interesting coincidence.  “I have not seen a deer the entire time I’ve lived in Pittsburgh,” I said in my last place blog.  It inspired my midterm piece.  The deer are letting me know that they’re here.  Not even in Schenley Park, but right here, where I frequent every day, so close to where I live!