Oceanic, the wind was gushing about the campus yesterday, hurling itself against doors and windows, tearing the last dry yellow leaves from the gingko trees and ripping up carpets of browning foliage from the earth. It was cold, too. Nothing to write home about (as though anyone writes home anymore), not even quite cold enough for snow, but cold enough to redden your nose and put some snot gleaming in that least-appreciated of human canyons, the philtrum.