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Archive for the ‘Seasons’ Category

Summer and Fall


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I’ve always been a summer girl. I like to step outside onto the grass and feel the warm earth, the warm breeze, the warm smell of summer flowers.. be it in India or in US. I’ve always thought Summer is my season. I have memories of Gujarat from some 20 years ago, when I would while away the hot afternoons swinging beneath the copper pod tree. There would be a breeze, the hot summer loo and that dryness in the earth, littered with the yellow flowers of the tree. I loved that season. In Bangalore, the Gulmohars and Rain trees would bloom, and even though it was hot and dry.. there is a calmness in a summer afternoon or evening that brings fond memories.

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There is happiness in lying down in the grass beside a stream and smelling the peony’s, listening to the sounds of activities around you. There is so much daylight in summer, so much potential to get out there and do anything you want. Maybe I overly associate with the fact that summer’s are when School/College was off, and I actually had time to relax in the afternoons and play in the evenings. Maybe it’s cause Summers are when all friends meet up and go on road trips or kayaking. But there is something about seeing the green lush liveliness of Summer (or early Summer in India) that makes me feel just as alive.

But this time around, Fall has kept me waiting. My favorite season Summer has dragged on well into October.. and the warm breezes in the afternoon, the thundershowers in the evening are still around. Except for today, when as I stepped out into the orange morning sun (why is the sun so orange in Autumn?).. I could smell Fall. I smelled that crisp feeling of a cool morning with leaves crunching beneath my feet. And suddenly, I long for a cold evening, without any breeze, with just the cold frost creeping in.

fall on drillfield

I yearn to sit outside and sip something warm, watching the drawn-out sunset from a lawn littered with red and yellow leaves. I yearn to bundle up in jackets, scarves and gloves. I couldn’t believe that I was actually waiting for winter. Summer is a time for action but Fall is a time to sit back and relax. Fall is a time to let out the breath you’ve been holding, fold up the picnic spread and nestle in your home. Maybe I’m just tired this Friday, and I want a relaxed weekend. Maybe I’ve finally learnt that each season needs its own time and a land with forever summer (aka San Diego) or forever winter (Canada) would never satisfy me.

Orange sunset across drillfield

Orange trees in fall color

red autumn tree

Days of Summer


Simple joys of summer
Simple things that make me smile
Come gently to my mind
Telling me, stay awhile
Stay awhile, beneath a tree
That’s beneath a fluffy cloud
Beneath a huge blue sky
Stay awhile, hum aloud.
Let the thunder boom
Smell the summer rain
Breath in the honeysuckle
That blooms once again.
Hold his hand and walk away
Pass the trail, pass the stream
Pause to look at the sunset
Stop to look at some dream.
And as the fireflies simmer
Once the rainclouds depart
These simple joys of summer
Will warm your autumn heart.

Seasonal Denial


Invisible demon
cloaked in leaves,
why do you take them away?
These golden yellow mementos of summer,
are all that we have
to reminisce a summer day.

By who’s bidding
are you so relentless
tossing and turning the leaves around?
with what spite,
with what reasoned glee
do you throw them to the ground?

wearing padded feet
bearing frosty breath
you slyly come to my door.
I hear the knocks
but what if I wont open it
to you anymore?

Chuckling devil
your plans wont work
you think winter will now start.
but all my friends say
haven’t you heard?
It’s always summer in my heart.

Updates from the Blue Ridge


All seems well with the world now that spring has arrived here. Overnight, the grass is lush and green, the birds are chirping, the temperatures are double-digits and the frisbees are flying. Throughout winter we complained that it never ended, that there was so much snow that never melted.. and now, it feels like spring had never left. I’m really impressed at nature, you gotta hand it to that momma :P. I’m amazed at how blue the sky is and how warm the wind feels. I still carry that winter coat in the mornings.. still a lil wary that this brief warmth is gonna freeze again soon. Ah well, let it freeze. Its bound to end sometime or the other, summer’s not too far now is it?
Just glad to know that life can go on again.

A Season, again


Here’s something I stumbled upon in my old book. Reading it makes me doubt whether I’ve progressed at all, if not regressed, as far as my short-story writing abilities are concerned.

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It’s 11 in the night, and the mist that’ll hang about in the morning tomorrow is still high up in the sky, blocking out the stars. The city lights reflecting off this low cloud cover has given the sky an orange tinge.. a stifled, stuffy feel. These are probably the last days of winter and after this begins a new cycle. Most things continue onto this new cycle, and every other cycle that will follow it but for some things, this winter is the last.

In this peaceful neighbourhood, where the promise of money hasn’t touched any street to arcades, where the houses are still homes that people live in and not leased out offices; in this neighbourhood one can still afford to take a stroll. The roads are rough but clean. The footpath maybe missing at points, but it still faithfully follows the road. And the tress.. silently standing guard to the metalled arteries. Whoever planned this neighbourhood didn’t plan very well, as is evident by the varied assortment of trees. So you have a flame of the forest competing with the purple jacaranda while the yellow powdered copper-pod stands somberly, looking queerly out of place. Bright, gay Tabebuias arch lazily across the community park and stare in indignation at the coconut trees that proudly stand tall. But these are the minor trees.. the ones that merely line the roads. They flower in spring, shed their leaves in fall and grow new ones, repeating this cycle over and over. There are however, sentinels that are evergreen. These huge and majestic trees cover every home here, stand at every corner and at every turn. Yet they cannot be noticed. It’s probably cause they’re so old and have been around for so many hundred years that people fail to see them. Oh, but they’re there. Let one be cut or uprooted and  then the loss is felt. Ironic, that we need to lose something to realise its worth.

But on this winter’s night, all the trees are asleep. It’s neither autumn nor spring nor summer, and the trees are all waiting for the start of a new cycle. Behind the clouds the stars may twinkle, but there’s no way of knowing. Orion may have come up in the sky and the Ursa major spanning the horizon, but i shall never know. The deep blue darkness of the sky is missing too, but above the clouds i know it stretches unnervingly, with its sharpness and clarity. The wind is missing too. In the summer, it carries the leaves and the dust, making a fanfare of its motion. Never hot, the breeze flows in great volumes, never quite fast. Perhaps she rests in the afternoons, but its only a pause. Summer is one big movement of cool mountain wind down to the hot plains. The monsoon winds, on the other hand, aren’t quite as modest. They ride abreast the precipitation clouds, bending trees and causing water to be carried within. It gushes all day, seemingly indefatigable. By far, the winter wind is however, the quietest. It cannot be seen as it carries with it neither leaves nor dust; cannot be heard cause it doesn’t rush through the trees. It flows both in volume and speed and yet is imperceptible. You can feel the cold however, that flows into your lungs and spreads through it a chillness. The first breath of air that catches your throat is the day winter arrives.

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But today, it is leaving. The lands are paused, like the trees. That pregnant gap between the end of a season and the start of another. Perhaps tomorrow, the new cycle begins, perhaps the day after. But it will, and then once again the wheels shall move.

I return to the house that was my home for so long with its cold marble tiles, bare without the furniture the movers have taken away. Eerie and still, it too awaits a new cycle. But for me, my tryst with it has ended. The trees and the wind will eternally have their cycles, alas, but for life that doesn’t gift eternal youth.

Dusk

A sense of loss


Summer is a strange season. After 6 months of cold and almost nill outdoor activities, summer arrives and hands to you all the time in the world. The sun sets at 9, and each stretched hour of daylight seems intended only to be spent outdoors. The days start early, the birds making it earlier still. Many a late nights I’ve wondered what excites these feathered beasts to chirp so happily at the forsaken hour before dawn. Then one day I saw the dawn.. and the chirping made sense.

I haven’t been fortunate enough to have all my summer days to while away though, I do have to work. I’ve no regrets however and the occassional hours by the pond on a weekend make up for the hours spent indoors working. Even watching the wind and the clouds from through a window feels good. The trees are green, the wind is wholesome, the stream runs full and the clouds drift gently by. Afternoon smell of cookouts, picnics and maybe an ice cream or two. As evening approaches, frisbess fly wild and free, eventually followed by fireflies that slowly simmer from the ground into the long dusk that follows. The occasional thunderstorms quench such a yearning in your heart, by just listening to the thunder and watching the rain pelt down on the green surroundings around you. This is of course, an american summer. We don’t appreciate summer as much in India; a) cause its warm all year round and you can do what you please; b) summer’s hot and dry, and we’d rather wait for monsoons.

Summer 

What joy, in being able to breath freely the air, to walk in meadows with cows for company and to watch the slow spectacle of the sun setting. This is only topped by being able to bike anywhere you please and being greeted by a verdant scene at every turn you take. What a wonderful season. Our days are packed with sunlight and a spirit of adventure.. be it while biking, trekking, boating or just being outdoors. And as it is with any gift in life that overwhelms you, summer brings to me a sense of loss. A sense that the days are passing by too quick, that the hours are melting away, and that the minute remains unfulfilled. A sense that I cannot hold time. But of course, nature never meant it for time to stay. Last I knew, she was a stickler for the cycle go on and on. Summer shall pass, the glorious evenings shall make way to the crisp dusk of autumn. A white, frosty winter and a cold spring shall make appearances before summer can come again. I know. But I still wish I could enjoy each minute of this glorious season a little more. Every unseized moment seems to me a terrible loss. But maybe that will change. Maybe, before the season’s end an ordinary evening stroll shall allow me to make peace with summer’s departure. Like Thoreau had said “..till one day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever he has done, shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts, and light up our whole lives with a great awakening light, so warm and serene and golden as on a bank-side in autumn.” Oops, summer :).

Move over Autumn, Winter’s here!


Ho ho ho, and a bottle of rum.. move over autumn, winter’s come!

Ok, that’s lame. But its true! No more excuses, winter is here. I’ve said enough about the soft, slow romance of Autumn, and its time to welcome the brashness of winter. My roommates giving me sidey looks as I say this. Now, I have absolutely no tolerance for cold (having lived where normal humans ought to for most part of my life), and she’s just waiting for the full blast of winter, by when I’ll be back here and crying out for beloved spring.

I probably will do so very soon. But today, it feels good. It feels, at least. I woke up and its a different world from what was last night. Everything’s white :D. There’s snow falling everywhere.. and i never really believed it but snowflakes are like lace after all! Yeah, the snow’s gonna become ice tomorrow, and yes the wind’s cold too. But what I really love about this season right now is that it’s so raw and rude. I hope I never get used to snow, and that it always remains a fascination to me. Here, the cold is not in moderation, the white is not in moderation. Clean slate? Ah, not that easy. But a newer world nevertheless.

lastcalvin

Serene and content, pure and white

where do you go when I try to reach out?

The world’s transformed into something else,

fantastical, magnamous and not true

If thats not what i call a dream,

then.. what can i call you?

** Still working on this**