Category: Nature

Exploring America’s Artistic Evolution Through History

The History of the United States

I just finished listening to a Great Courses Lecture Series on American History. I loved the chapters where the American History audiobook lectures cross-referenced the historical narrative with developments in Art History. After all, art is a reflection of life, and life is an inspiration for art. 

I am sure there are books and reams of material dealing with all of which I am about to write about. If you know of any good books or podcasts along these lines, please drop me a comment.

Romanticism (Early 1800’s) 

Romanticism in the early 1800’s from authors and poets like Walt Whitman and Ralph Waldo Emerson made their way into the American psyche with their hopeful and nature-oriented philosophy. The call for nature as a spiritual healer, a gentle reminder that life on Earth is bountiful even if sometimes hard. This was the time America was settling into itself as a fledgling nation – idealistic, ambitious, and prosperous.

The themes of art and literature spanned mystic nature, emotion, imagination, individuality, and inspiration.

American Renaissance (Late 1800’s – Post Civil War) 

Then, in the mid-1800’s – after the Civil War and many losses on both sides, art and literature turned towards the American Renaissance. Nature was not the benign soother of souls anymore. It was the vast, terrifying force that could destroy. The darkness within. The ghost of reality underlying the dreams of the bright and hopeful. The likes of Edgar Allan Poe.

I thought to myself on a walk one day that maybe this was the growth that was necessary like the human teenage psyche needing to grow, deepen and mature. Knowing, becoming aware of the darkness, so we may shape our morality with knowledge. The post civil war was the Reconstruction Era. It was also a time of intense growth with populations migrating towards cities, industrialization replacing agricultural jobs etc.

Harlem Renaissance (~1920’s) 

This period was followed by the Harlem Renaissance in Art where the reality shaped by experiences of people took hold. Art and literature tried to take what was life and reclaim our meaning and dignity through our shared and lived realities. Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald served as a cornerstone for what greed could like, while Harlem authors like Zora Neal Hurston gave us glimpses into the lives of Black communities in the rural South.

The early 1920’s also gave rise to the Jazz Age and changes from the classical art forms from the past.

Surrealism (Post WW II – 1950’s) 

After the intense periods of the two World Wars with a depression sandwiched in between, the populace seemed to be in need for some hope, and an escaping-reality kind of theme developed. Artists like Salvador Dali & Frido Kahlo dipped into the realm of dreams inspired by Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis.  They gave to the public a taste of what it was like to bypass reason, and exist in a world of possibilities.

I thought it was one of those ways in which art could inspire life to be forward looking. After all, dreaming up what can be is just as crucial as depicting what-is, isn’t it?

The Journeys of Art & Humans

In some small way, it was like the progression of humans itself. We start off innocent, hopeful, trusting, and then become wary, cynical. From these experiences, is shaped a reality that is a sum of our experiences; and it either takes a determined person to evolve into the next version of themselves, or to fester in a pale imitation of what-was.

It is fascinating that Art itself can provide answers to our anthropological progression, isn’t it?

Please let me know what you think: Is the evolution of art as essential as evolution of life itself?

Once again, any pointers to books/podcasts/articles along these lines would be much appreciated.

Coming up soon: Art in the digital age – how do you think it will be classified and transformed?

Literary Inspirations from Nature

Amazonian Strength

It was a somewhat tumultuous setting to wake up to. I had just crossed the Amazon river on a bike. Did you know pedaling through water looks easier than it feels? Especially, when the waters are flowing west-east, and you’re biking north-south. 

But still, it was beautiful to bike across a wide, deep river. Water is so soothing, isn’t it? Feels like floating – only every now and then, your ankles get wet. I think I rather enjoyed the ride after a full 3 days of council meetings with the Queen. Have you been to any of these? Turns out, they aren’t as fun and impressive as they seem. But that is corporate err… royal life for you I suppose. The nitty-gritty – the treaties, the documents and the hundred disagreements that arise between 35 council members is truly draining. While I was happy to say my good-byes and head across the river, I wasn’t quite ready for what lay for me on the other side.  

Scene cut. 

Retake River-biking scene.

The aerial view of my biking across the Amazon river is cool. Was Wonder Woman an Amazonian woman? 

Cut. Cut. Cut.

“You’ll be late – time to get up!”

I moaned into my pillow displaying the kind of weakness for sleep that Amazonian strong women most certainly did not according to the myths. I got out of the bed though as a good citizen must.  

Still, I felt a little unsettled – aerial surveys, biking across rivers, social council meetings and strange amazonian men pointing me to a different boat (That was the last part of the dream – not important) – can do that. I decided a short walk around the neighborhood was all the time I had before my day started. 

The Heron on the Roof

So I legged it. Trying to listen to the grounding sound of chirping birds, and taking in huge gulps of the fresh morning air. Did I tell you how bright it was for a February morning? Well, it was.

Anyway, I was tripping along, when I saw the strangest sight. A blue heron: perched on a rooftop in the middle of our housing community. I love watching herons and cranes as regular readers of my blog know. Watching them seems to settle a certain restlessness in my soul. 

Watching the grey heron on a grey house’s rooftop after a tumultuous morning, I felt a new respect for the bird that lives this reality with ease and calm. Aerial surveys – wasn’t that what it was doing just then? Wading through the river waters? They love it and they excel at it. Watching the waters sanguinely from near the shore – again, their specialty.

Literary Inspirations

As I watched the heron, an unrelated nugget of information rose – it has been a while since I had read Kelly Barnhill’s book, The Crane Husband. In an interview, she went on to say that the story had come to her one day  after seeing a crane sit still on a rooftop. 

We see plenty of birds perched anywhere and everywhere all the time. But there is something incongruous about a heron or a crane perched on a rooftop (not in the middle of some fields) , but in a suburban locality, that stirs the imagination. At that moment, I could understand the author’s inspiration for the book.

I stopped to take in the beautiful ringing sounds of a winter robin on a bare tree, and headed back feeling far more settled than when I set out. The heron had done it again. Patience, stillness, sun-bathing, rivers – all in a day’s game after all.

The Pursuit of Peace

Californian Winters

The January cold was nothing like the icy swell sweeping the rest of the country. In fact, it was almost anti-climatic. I had stepped out for a walk, and while I admired the sunset, I also took in the stirrings of spring all around me. 

Californian winters are mild.

Trees in Bloom

The first white cherry blossoms – the ones to bloom earlier and earlier every year were already beginning to bloom. I swished along, looking for the other signs of winter leaving and spring taking tentative peeps into our neighborhood. The narcissi were growing, and some precocious ones were beginning to bloom. The snowdrops too – little drops of spring tucked in their white and green attire. 

The trees were still bare, and I tilted my head upwards towards the moon. I really do love the waxing moon season – the gibbous moon against the early sunset makes me think of tides in the sea, turtles on beaches, deer in meadows, pelicans in lakes and any number of beautiful things. All things intended to fill your heart. 

I made my way towards the magnificent magnolia tree in bloom now. They truly are astounding to behold. I stood there peeking at the moon through the blooms, taking a picture that I was sure to delete soon, and then laughed at my own folly. I have yet to take a good picture of the moon with my phone, but the optimism with which I whip it out every time is truly remarkable. 

I stood there waxing poetic (Get it? Get it?) – with a yearning to set the roiling news of the world against the peace of the winter evening. 

The Pursuit of Peace

A little wish to capture magic in a bubble.
A January wish to capture peace in the world.
A wish. A hope. A thought. 

Maybe.

It will make people appreciate peace
It will make magic permeate the bubble and spread to the world.
An intention. A manifestation. A yearning.

January started off with turmoil on all fronts in the world. The pursuit of peace seems more and more elusive in the current situation. But nature always shows us hope.

Shopping with Richard & Petunia

You get to do the strangest things on trips. Like shopping with Richard and Petunia.

Petunia had a bored look. If her nonchalance was studied, it was not apparent. Well done. The attention Richard got was ridiculous if you asked her, and she wasn’t going to indulge him any more than was necessary.

Richard, though, was preening. Young as he was, he was still learning the ways of people. He was incredibly good-looking and that department helped him in getting what he wanted.

If it bothered Petunia, she didn’t show it. She seemed happy enough to be ignored. Besides, Petunia’s doctor had advised her to go easy on her diet. She was clearly one of those queens who enjoyed being served luxurious portions at regular intervals without having to ask for it.

Petunia liked to think of herself as well-proportioned, but Richard liked to think of her as fat.

It really did not bode well for their relationship.

So, it really was no one’s fault.

Richard asked for food. Joanna gave it to him. She let him peck it straight from her hand, and those in the store looked on with awe. Richard really was handsome. His eyes and feathers shone: he was quite the bored aristocrat when I walked in. He came over and gave me a once-over and then strutted over to Joanna. She held out her hand with his food, and Richard pecked at it, making sure that we had our eyes on him – giving him the sort of adoring look he was used to.

I suppose after the fifteenth time that day, Petunia snapped. She still could not bring herself to exert herself and show her disapproval, but she did sort of snort. Richard understood, and pecked hard enough for the food to splash and roll out onto the floor from my outstretched hand.  Richard ate it all up and then stalked off into rain outside. Just so.

Petunia gave him a scowl that said, “Good! Get a good soak then!”, and went back to snoozing on the billing counter. Bird food was nowhere as good as cat food anyway. Petunia knew that.

Oh well!

How often does one get to shop with a peacock and a cat?

History & Herons

South Indian Meals

The vegetables were neatly sliced & diced, the tomatoes were pureed, the tamarind was soaked, the rice was boiling merrily, the rasam was simmering gently at first and then with a ferocity matching the chillies in them. A South Indian meal was in progress. We do not set much store by one-pot meals in South Indian cuisine, and consequently all the burners were on. 

Efficiency. A production. An orchestra. 

I was listening to an audible book on The History of the United States  that was making me gasp in places, as I cooked.

After one particularly intense chapter ended, I stopped the podcast. In the ensuing silence an image arose in my mind.

Unbidden, unhurried, and unsullied. 

The gray heron

It was from my morning walk. Before the frenzied cooking spree to get food on the table. 

The gray heron. 

I have seen many gray herons. The common refrain in the household is that I have more photographs of the herons and egrets than I do of the children. This one, though, was the very first time I saw a heron go in for the kill at close quarters. 

The heron was less than 5 feet away. Standing still immersed in knee deep waters. Stark against the morning light. It was still cold – January colds of California – and then, slowly it waded into the waters a little more. Stealth. Strategy. And then, in one swift motion, it plunged its impressive beak into the water, and caught a shimmering fish in its beak. 

A second later, the fish was eaten, and it went back to standing in the waters. 

Whoa!

I couldn’t help contrasting the efficiency and speed of the heron’s meal against the one I was preparing. Dozens of spices, different boiling points, cutting angles for the vegetables, the right consistency, the right temperature, the right time, the right ingredients. 

In fairness, the heron was also probably listening to its version of American History from the walkers nearby, as it contemplated and went after its meal. All those opinions and snippets on Noble Peace Prizes, Venezuela and Greenland. But there, the comparison ended. 

Now, I cannot compare the taste – was the fish as tasty to the heron as the meal I had made was to our palates? I honestly cannot say. But the heron seemed content enough. When later, the family gathered around for lunch, they seemed content enough too. Wasn’t that the point? 

To Realms & Worlds Unknown

“Wow! Do people actually get up at 3 in the morning and drive up the mountain to catch the sunrise?” I said, my jaw slipping a good 45 degrees downward.

The husband, knowing my enthusiasm for these early morning fests, said, “Yes! But I was thinking of something else. Let’s go up in the afternoon, do a small hike and then watch the sunset. That way, we can wait for an hour or so, and watch the starry night skies too before heading back down.”

I nodded – did I tell you he was a smart cookie? I must have.

Haleakala Crater

So, that’s what we did. Haleakala Crater is one of the major attractions of Maui.  As we made our way towards the mountain, it was becoming gradually more scenic and lush. The volcano itself is a stunner – at about 9000 feet above sea level, it is a world very different from the rest of the island. Up there it actually feels like it is different from the rest of the planet.

One minute, you are parking the car, and looking at the trail map, and the next minute, you are on a trail called the Trailing Sands (Keonehe’ehe’e – slides off your tongue doesn’t it?) that transports you straight into the dusty dunes of Mars. Your lungs sort of leap into your throat, and your heart does this dance where it shows you what it means to hike at 9000 feet. But it truly is an experience. Some barely-there-scant vegetation is the only anchor to Earth up there. You are surrounded by miles and miles of volcanic rubble, and the shifting sands around you promise you bleakness. The sands are black. They are rust. They are brown. And there are pebbles, gravel all the way every way.

The worst part of this other-world hike is that you first go down, and then climb back up. If your heart was dancing the jig when you start down, it does the conga when you start back up. But this is where human beings are truly other-worldly too. You show them a trail in the middle of a crater, and you’ll find a swell number of souls all tramping up and down. “We’ll see you on Earth later!” They seem to say but they are there. Telling you you’ve got this, and snapping pictures for one another.

The sweat from the hike, and the cold from the altitude make you sort of yearn for a few warm blankets and a cup of hot cocoa. How did these astro-biologists and astronauts opt to go on missions lasting years to places like that in the movies? 

Alaula & Aka’ula of Napoʻo ʻana o ka lā 

The sunset was spectacular  once you got your breath back, and we huddled around the mountaintop peeking over the horizon as the skies did their magical thing of swishing out its robes. 

Napoʻo ʻana o ka lā – means the setting of the sun

Alaula – the glow of the sunset

Aka’ula – the reddish glow of the sunset

Within minutes, the pinks and oranges were gone – to be replaced by a pitch black sky and a million glittering stars. The temperatures dipped a frightful amount, and as we swiveled our necks up to the worlds above, a warm blanket felt more than welcome. Or even a warm towel fresh from the dryer would have been enough.

Towels for interstellar travels

I have no doubt that if we were to hike up into the skies there we would find our own species up there cheering each other on. “Just a little further and you’ll be on the other side of the star – just drink some water!”

I chuckled feeling a bit silly at the thought, but it reminded me of that fellow in The HitchHiker’s Guide to the Galaxy where he says the first thing a space traveler ought to pack is a towel. Well, the first thing a traveler to another world in our world ought to pack is a towel too.

The stars, and the crater had done its thing. By the time, we drove down the mountain side to our own planet, it was well into the night, and sleep under a cozy comforter and a temperature controlled bedroom beckoned us far more than the adventures of the universe.

Our Beautiful Earth.

We may enter realms and worlds unknown, but to enter our known world with the comforts of modern living awaiting us is no small blessing. 

The Tyrant’s Daughter

Early morning vibes

“What do you mean we have to jump in the ocean at 6:30 a.m.?” We were planning on snorkeling in Maui. Islands, especially those closer to the equator like Hawaii, have a sort of early morning energy to them, that dwellers from the mainlands like Yours Truly have difficulty comprehending.

The husband shrugged, and said either something to the effect of only-time-available or only-time-it-is-done. He was already tucking into toasted bagels, sounding happy and energetic. I whined. “You’re such a Tyrant for waking us up at this ungodly hour!” He laughed, and thrust a cup of coffee into my hands.

The daughter gave me a scolding, “Amma – if you have to go snorkeling you have to get up at 5:30. You can nap the rest of the day like a sea turtle sunning on a beach if you’d like, but you have to get up now.”

“Well – buddy up with him, why don’t you? You’re the Tyrant’s Daughter. That should be title of my book – The Tyrant’s Daughter! Why does he have to be so peppy at 5 in the morning?”

“Because we’re snorkeling. You kind of have to be!” She said, and I scowled at her. I sent baleful glances the whole way to the boat. I still wasn’t sure about the whole jumping in the ocean at dawn thing, but apparently fish don’t listen.

“You jump off here – and you can swim up to there – you’ll see some turtles if you’re lucky. Keep your distance..” I shivered, as the captains of the boat went on with their instructions.

The waters shimmered and looked beautiful. I am not denying that. We had spotted two whales and a baby on the way there. Granted, they didn’t look cold, but they hadn’t been pulled from a downy comforter in a room that already had the thermostat set to a comfortable temperature, had they?

Flip Float & Fiddle

I watched braver souls splash into the waters and flip off with their flippers and snorkels in place, while I just stood there praying for strength and warmth. Finally, when it was getting a bit shameful to put it off any longer, I took the plunge too. Once I got the hang of it, it was marvelous. 

I don’t know what the whales were thinking just about then, but I could’ve told them, the waters were not cold at all. Getting a healthy swim right around sunrise is the heartiest thing to do.

I flipped off and peered down into the most beautiful coral reefs. It was teeming with fish, and there up ahead was a large turtle having his shell cleaned by the reef fish, It was a gorgeous sight to behold. The sun’s rays piercing through the waters combined with the silver and black fish that were in abundance in the reef, and the turtle, put me in a sort of trance. I felt my heart stop several times as the turtle swam towards me – why do turtles look like they are smiling? Before I knew it, I heard someone holler at me to come back to the boat.

Note: Picture not from snorkeling, but elsewhere

Our next stop was equally breathtaking, and here, we saw rainbow fish, yellow sun fish and so many happy creatures, it was amazing. The corals are true marvels of creation. Here we are, trying our best to hold leaking roofs together, plastering walls, soldering outlets, while the reefs build and hold with grace and pressure.

I feel the tug in my heart to quote Gerald Durrell here. It is from one of my favorite essays in the book, Fruit Bats and Golden Pigeons by Gerald Durrell. Titled, The Enchanted World.

Quote:

Any naturalist who is lucky enough to travel, at certain moments has experienced a feeling of overwhelming exultation at the beauty and complexity of life <….>  You get it when you see a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis <…> You get it when you see a gigantic school of dolphins stretching as far as the eye can see, rocking and leaping exuberantly though their blue world <…. >

But there is one experience, perhaps above all others, that a naturalist should try to have before he dies and that is the astonishing and humbling experience of exploring a tropical reef. You become a fish, hear and see and feel as much like one as a human being can; yet at the same time you are like a bird, hovering, swooping and gliding across the marine pastures and forests.

You Are Not a Tyrant!

When finally I hauled myself back on to the boat, I started to feel cold again. But down there, in the waters, it was heavenly. I shimmied up to the husband and said, “You are not a tyrant for waking me up! It was so lovely – thank you!” He gave me a loud guffaw, and laughed.

The daughter said, “I think I need an apology over here as well.” She had a sort of shine that happy mermaids get after a morning of frolicking, and was chomping Hawaiian chips. “If I remember correctly, you were writing books about the Tyrant’s Daughter a few hours ago.“

I smiled sheepishly. Or Turtlishly maybe.

“Fine! You get an apology too. It was beautiful!” I said, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I thought I’d left my heart in the reefs, but then what was that huge tug I felt in my torso as I beamed my love out into the world around me?

Note: These pictures were taken in Monterey Bay and not under the seas at Maui. I did not take underwater cameras with me to record. I simply drank in the scenes and a bit of the Pacific Ocean too.

Dramatic Rainy Day Imagery

Not Dramatic?

“I did not like going for a walk in the rain the other day.” I said. The children clutched their hearts. The husband looked up from his chess game, which if you know the husband, is huge. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh come on! It’s not that dramatic!”

“Not dramatic?! Baboons battling elephants isn’t dramatic. You not enjoying on a rainy day walk?”

“Let’s pull up your posts, shall we?”

Rainy Day Adventures

“Okay….I get the point! Nothing unifies you lot more than this, huh?!”

Slithering Serpents, Morphing Worms, Shuddering Breaths

The husband kept his chess aside, and came to me looking concerned, as I fiddled about in the kitchen. “So what happened?”

“Nothing! It really was nothing. Usually I quite like…”

I gallantly ignored the snickering “Quite like indeed!”, and proceeded, “Just .. maybe I should’ve gone when it had just started to rain, and there was still light outside. As it was, by the time I went most of the sidewalks had flooded over, the darkness and cold had made things difficult everywhere. The street lights illuminated things I’d rather not have seen: there were such large earthworms everywhere! When did they get so huge? I mean, at that point are they earthworms anymore?”

“No mother – they are slithering serpents!” I glared at the brother-sister duo. They were having too much fun, and reveling in building on each other’s point to notice. I suppose points were to be given for quickness of repartee or whatever it is these debating champs award.

A Grouchy Day Walk

“You know that’s why most people don’t walk in the rain? They don’t come prancing in all wet, and shining with an inner light and all that. They huddle indoors. “

“They sip tea. They light candles.”

“They listen to music, watch TV.”

“You can try any of these things next time, and let us know how you feel!”

“Well – thank you all for telling me how you really feel! I am not going to be inviting any of you idiots on a rainy day adventure with me next time!” I said, making sure to point my nose in the air, and huffing impressively.

“Promise?” they said. 

The glee, I tell you! I couldn’t help laughing. 

This is not to say that I shall not go on other rainy day walks. I am too much of a pluviophile for that. Just that I didn’t enjoy that one. It was the earthworms mainly. The cold too. My aches and pains may have contributed. I sound like a proper grouch, don’t I? Everyone is entitled to a grouchy day walk aren’t they?

If Earthworms could fly

The day after though, I stepped out, and felt like a caterpillar who’s itching to burst into wings and flutter about. It was beautiful. I loved the clean Earth. The Earth was bursting with promise. The bare trees were looking stark in their beauty of abscission. The footpaths were cleaned of debris – all washed away, and all of the Earth’s songs were bright and beautiful.

I don’t know what the earthworms were doing, but couldn’t help thinking that they must envy the caterpillars right about now – imagine bursting wings to fly a day after the rains? I sent a wave to the butterflies on my walk. I wonder what they do when it rains – it must hamper their flight, isn’t it? I think I detected a humph from an earthworm buried deep in the mud. 

Amulee’s Green Party

The Cave of Quietude – Keats

There is a sort of quiet happiness – The cave of quietude as Keats so elegantly puts it, a rather meditative sort of space where the soul expands. It is truly astonishing.

It happens when you are sitting and marveling at life – it could be on a beach like I did in Maui recently. A sort of reverent hush crept in – It was time for the sunset. The waves were calm and all around us were signs that we were meant to be peaceful with the Earth around us.  The children and I went off on a little saunter to catch the sunset at a leisurely pace.

There, by a log of wood, I stopped short and said “Ooh – look somebody made a sea turtle out of rocks and sands!”

We had watched an instagrammer make a sand castle earlier, putting all amateur attempts to shame. So, I really thought it was another beach artist showing off their skills. (There are so many ways in which people are famous these days, it almost makes fame look normal.)

Aamai, Amul, Amulee

“Ummm – it looks like a real turtle to me!”, said the son, walking cautiously. But he also heard Maui’ian rules about keeping 10 feet from a turtle, so we settled on a log of wood conveniently placed 15-20 feet away to watch. Was it alive. Was it real. Thrilling questions for one on a sunset walk by the beach wouldn’t you agree?

We sat there and hoped it was real and alive. It would be such a tragedy if it weren’t. I sent a silent plea to the universe to let the turtle live long and prosper.

As though the turtle heard, it lazily opened its eyes and peered at us. A little lengthening of the neck – no exertions, no fuss. Then, determining that we were harmless souls, closed its eyes and went straight back to sleep. I cannot tell you what a scene like that does to one’s nerves. It calms and excites at the same time. In those quiet moments where brilliant life blends with peace coexistence, the soul expands. 

We spoke in reverent whispers about myths and fables that humans have come up with to capture the lure and aura of these gentle creatures.  Kurma Avatar (The way Lord Vishnu came to save Earth in the form of a turtle). I could understand it – they truly exude calm in a frenetic world. They made us saunterers stop, sit and take in the sunset, did they not?

“What should we name it?” I asked.

More hushed suggestions. “Amulee” – I said. “Aamai means turtle in Tamil, and this one is a very sweet one, so I like to call it Amulee.”

“Do you think it is a female?”

I confess turtle biology baffles me. So I threw my hands up. “Fine! Amul if male and Amulee if female. Happy?” I said smiling.

The turtle opened its eyes and craned its neck ever so slightly. I took it as a nod of approval, though it could possibly not have understood. Right? Sitting there though, I doubted it. Most creatures have shown themselves to be more brilliant than us – they learnt how to communicate us, while we did not do the same for other species. Apparently, cats only meow to communicate with humans – not amongst themselves. Dogs understand English and vernacular words to communicate with us. Dolphins too. These turtles have been around beach-goers all their lives, I would not be surprised at all.

Green Party

We sat there, and maybe it was the magic of seeing the turtle share the beach with us, but we saw some tiny streaks of apple green in the gorgeous sunset. Poets have written about it. I know L M Montgomery talks about apple green in the sunsets in her books – I thought they were a North Pole phenomenon. I have always felt a little off-kilter about the ways writers write about the brilliant streaks of color they see in eye colors and sunsets. But then, the daughter mentioned Green parties in their university – apparently, folks gather around at sunset and look for the streaks of green in the sunset.

This time, we did see it. Mild, and no darker than apple green, but still there. Amulee’s Green Party was a success.

The next morning, it had gone back into the ocean.

Winter Solstice Celebrations

The last week of the calendar year is one of my favorite times of the year. The bustle of the year somehow sparkles – even as plans are being drawn up for the new year, and the world keeps spinning. I am one of those nitwits who gets excited by the winter solstice– I actually stand outside and imagine myself on a tilting Earth and wave hello to the setting sun. I know. The children already told me – thank you!

“Hello Yule!” 

“Do you have to sound like a mule, mother?”

Why yes! I am glad you asked. There is a reason we ask for the Yule-tide spirit during Christmas. It is a pagan festival honoring the winter solstice.  Norse roots and origins indicate that this time of year was especially tough for those near the North Pole.

They bought into their homes what they could remember of green – hence the Christmas tree, the yule logs for warmth and for some weird reason, they also brought in goats – maybe to honor their gods – didn’t Thor have a weird fascination with them? Or maybe they just liked goat’s milk and didn’t fancy stepping out into the cold and dark to get some.

Dongzhi (冬至)

That’s the winter solstice in Mandarin. This one, like many symbolisms, linked back to the yin-yang symbol. The darkest days of the year – yin, can now move towards light – yang.

This is reason enough to tuck into some dumplings as celebrations, no?

Dark Mofo

The winter solstice in the Southern hemisphere, is of course, celebrated on June 20th when we are mooning about our side of the earth enjoying long days of sunshine. The Tasmanians, have a festival called the Dark Mofo in which they go for nudist swims as the sun rises – on the coldest day of the year for them.

Human-beings celebrate in many different ways- I can’t seem to be comprehend them all.

In any case, the skies are hugely rewarding this time of the year. The rain-filled clouds – what are they called? Nimbus clouds or the especially royal crown looking strato-nimbus clouds.

The stars on a clear night, or when the clouds are parting seem especially bright too. It is probably why Jesus’s birthday was chosen this close to the Winter Solstice. There is something about watching the cold sparkling stars above, and wondering about how hot and cold the universe really can be. 

The tiny sparkling lights of holiday decor in our neighborhood make night-time strolls delightful. Cold – but delightful. I once scared the bejesus out of some deer in the meadows as I belted a Christmas carol out into the wilderness. Sirius shone particularly bright that night.

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” — Albert Camus

Have AI do something like that and I’ll accept it has achieved human intelligence.