Same time last year, I was prematurely stuck in a winter parch-land.
It was becoming harder to hold up the attitude which my job most earnestly required.
You can't look bored, you see.
Every evening I walked back from home, the constant rhythms of my feet crunching the autumn paraphernalia caught my leftover fancy. Playful boots stomping on twigs and stiffened leaves on a paved road, and on the way to a homely cup of coffee.
In a place where my grit got stretched to a full, it was these little things.