Studying outside in spring even when it’s still 45°F.
STUDYING OUTSIDE IN SPRING EVEN WHEN IT’S STILL 45°F.
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That specific chill, right? The one that screams "still winter" but your calendar, and your soul, desperately insists it’s spring. You know the sight: groups of us, emerging from the library’s fluorescent hum like hibernating bears, squinting at a weak sun. We’d stake out a patch of grass, bundled in parkas and beanies, often with gloved fingers fumbling on laptop keys, all for the sheer, unadulterated idea of studying outdoors.
It was rarely comfortable. Your coffee went cold in five minutes, your nose ran, and you probably couldn’t feel your toes. Yet, there was an unspoken solidarity, a collective delusion that made it almost glorious. We were reclaiming the campus, defying the lingering cold, convincing ourselves that fresh air would somehow make quantum physics or ancient literature make more sense. It was a bizarre, beautiful ritual, a testament to our stubborn optimism and perhaps, a touch of academic masochism.
Did you love it, or secretly dread it while still participating? Either way, it’s etched into the memory of those precious few weeks before true warmth arrived, a reminder of our unique campus quirks.
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