Tag: Environment

When you can be anything …

What do you want to be? 

A question that we ask our children way before they know who they are. Some of us know what we want to be doing early on. Some others not so much. People like me take a lifetime because we are always becoming. 

Now I think it’s one of the most useless questions an adult can ask a child—What do you want to be when you grow up? As if growing up is finite. As if at some point you become something and that’s the end. — Michelle Obama, [Becoming]

For those of you who do not yet know – I am switching careers now. Following a dream that has been in me for almost my whole adult life. I am choosing, and learning to become a teacher.

I am not sure why this took me so long. But it did. I studied to be a software engineer, had a reasonably good career for a quarter century. So why now? The answer was more simple than before, because I answered them with more questions: Why not now? If not now, then when?

Learning to Teach 

I am attending university to get my teaching credentials. School, assignments, examinations, projects, friends, classmates, teachers, professors, and I feel I have arrived home again. I have always wanted to learn. Loved to learn.

My courses over the summer were exciting and interesting, if somewhat different from what I have been doing over the past few decades. The past few decades were systems and scaling. Hopefully the next few years is children and growth.

A good part of learning to teach is grounded in psychology. Developmental psychology. At what age do children learn to think in abstract terms? Does it match the age when algebra is being introduced?

On phone calls with the parents, both teachers, they ask with interest about the psychological theories I am learning about. They are both retired teachers after decades of teaching, and still cannot quite help themselves from learning to teach.

Vygotsky, Bandura, Piaget, Gardner, Erik Erikson – they are all rattling in the brain after a fascinating few months of learning.

Teaching to Learn

This month, I get to be a student teacher in an Elementary school classroom. It is a long process to become a certified teacher in California. Something I did not realize.

My children had excellent teachers and mostly remember them with fondness. I have interacted with many of them over the years, some of whom have become friends to me too. But I still hadn’t realized the long journey it takes to become a teacher. All the exams, certifications, permits, trainings (mandatory, required, essential!), and all the preparations they do throughout the year to be ready for the children in the classroom. I have always heard of good teacher shortages, and I now know why. It is a long process, and a demanding journey for a profession that is famed for less pay especially in the Bay Area. But all of this has only made me respect teachers more. 

On one side, it means only those who truly want to teach come to the profession, but on the other hand, I feel we are missing out on talent that future generations could benefit from. I do not know what the solution is.

As part of our teaching credential, they asked us to name one reason we each chose to become a teacher. The answers were varied : community, giving, learning, children, growth. But whatever it is, I beamed around at my fellow teachers-to-be. They are all a little polymathic in their abilities and interests. Artistic, analytical, curious, cogent, enthusiastic and genuinely considerate and intelligent. The children who will be benefiting from them are lucky indeed.

Please wish me luck in this endeavor. Becoming is a journey.

Pinecones & the Secrets of the Universe

I was in a class in which we were learning how to teach art. This class was particularly fascinating for me. For the class had a very hands-on make-your-art-while-learning approach to it. One session we learnt free-play, another session: elements of music. One time we all went downstairs and broke off into small groups choreographing dance routines with little themes. Birds in a storm, ritual-rhythm-like movements, a morning routine etc. Teaching through drama, poetry (this is where I learnt about black-out poetry), and one time we learnt how to extract pine nuts from a pinecone. 

The Secrets of the Universe

There are many reasons that I loved that particular activity. I have always loved pinecones. There is something about them. Like it is hiding all the layers and secrets of life itself inside that protective cone. I thought if I could ever design a home for myself, it would be like living inside a pine cone hanging off a handsome, bounteous pine tree, swaying in the breeze, holding my own in the storm, and gently lulling fellow living beings to a peaceful state as they rest under my boughs. 

Of course, human-beings are never as accomplished as all that, and instead, I spent many wonderful evenings gazing lovingly at the pine trees nearby. Watching a pine cone drop from the boughs above, trying to pry it open to see  what lies inside. 

I was reminded of Hope Jahren’s book, Lab Girl while musing about the pine cones.

In the book, Dr Jahren writes about the science and its demands on its lovers. Her writing is lyrical, and when she writes of her research and her little moments of leap, it is nothing short of poetic. For instance, she writes of the time she was studying the structural makeup of the seeds of hackberry trees, and she unmistakably finds traces of Opal in the seeds:

“It was opal and this was something I could draw a circle around and testify to as being true. While looking at the graph, I thought about how I now knew something for certain that only an hour ago had been an absolute unknown, and I slowly began to appreciate how my life had just changed.

I was the only person in an infinite exploding universe who knew that this powder was made of opal. In a wide, wide world full of unimaginable numbers of people, I was – in addition to being small and insufficient—special. I was not only a quirky bundle of genes, but I was also unique existentially because of the tiny detail that I knew about Creation,…Until I phoned someone, the concrete knowledge that opal was the mineral that fortified each seed on each hackberry tree was mine alone.”

Not that we learnt anything that was ours alone during that lesson with pinecones, but it felt just as special. Like the pinecones were divulging the little secrets of the universe to us, to hold carefully and pass on.

Pine nuts are nuts!

It was a fascinating experience to see how pine nuts were extracted from the pinecone. The pine cones do not open wherever they please. It has to be under certain temperatures and even then, it is a tricky business. Once the pine nuts can be extracted, it isn’t a simple task to extract the flesh within them which is the edible part of the whole thing. 

So we sat there polishing the nuts against sandpaper chatting amiably with each other on how much effort it takes. I could very well imagine this being a community-building, all-the-aunts-and-grandmas-singing-together kind of activity. 

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/N1OeoaHGeLM

Of course, now there are mechanical shakers and crushers to do some of the work. But still, the process remains an expensive, labor-intensive process. Pine nuts are expensive – “Pine nuts are nuts!”

By the end of extracting the flesh from within the nuts though,I had a renewed sense of appreciation for the expensive packets in stores. 

I sat there one evening gazing up at the tree and saw the squirrels in the neighborhood loosen a pine cone from the tree. It fell with a soft thud upon the grass below. A single pine cone in a suburban lawn. Holding the secrets of the universe or at least the universes of pine trees in them.

The Unlikely Friendships of Larks & Koalas

Sunrise! Sunrise! Please don’t sing!

It was one of those swift week-end trips to the Pacific Northwest. An early morning flight to catch meant that we were out before the sun rose. Watching the sunrise is something I do not do often, but when I do, I like it to be just the way I am. A little sleepy, groggy, the rays of the sun slowly brightening the skies. Taking its time. 

I have written about this appalling tendency of some people to get up and switch themselves on like fluorescent flashlights illuminating an international football stadium. The daughter and yours truly are not like that. We like to take our time. Rise and shine in slow motion after a cup of coffee preferably. We have just switched out from another realm of our dreams to earth, and we like to adjust.

The daughter looked like a rock. Literally. She had a brown hoodie pulled over her head, and looked slightly delirious if addressed. Clearly wishing to be left alone. Her eyelids drooping behind the eyelids. Yours Truly did not have the hoodie, but I was yawning so relentlessly even after a shower and a cup of coffee, that no one but visiting fruit flies should have come near me.

The husband, on the other hand, had this beaming smile on his face, and was … get this … hold your breath … dancing to the appalling music he had on. The daughter and I moaned, but it didn’t seem to deter him. Feigning sleep only seemed to make this enthusiasm worse. “Come on!”, he said with an exaggerated dance move that made the car swerve a bit with the early morning winds of the bay.

Sunrises soothe souls

I was lost for a solution when I peeked outside and the caught the pinkening of the skies. Like soothing an overactive child, I directed his attention to the skies. He wow-ed and look-ed – but at least the dancing had stopped. The daughter’s feeble , “Good job ma!” Was all the appreciation I needed. The sunrise had given us all what we were looking for.

What was it that made some of us diurnal creatures and others nocturnal? How is it some of us are koalas and groggy after 18 hours of sleep and a dose of eucalyptus oils, while others chirp and think nothing of belting out that early morning birdsong and hopping about – what are these birds? Yes, larks.

We were like larks and koalas in the mornings, and somehow, we manage to shake down together on this earth. Talk about unlikely friendships and all that.

Are you good at this-and-that OR that-and-this?

Indians in India have this habit of rising at ungodly hours to drink coffee. Even when there is nothing much to be done for the rest of the day. Why potter about at 5:30 in the morning, rouse the household, and drink coffee if you are only to get into bed for a nap at 11 a.m?

There have been plenty of studies showing that an early riser is good and this-and-that, while late-night folks are good at that-and-this. 

This turtle that I saw in the Pacific Northwest after a good few hours of sunshine, was rising and clearly taking its time. I saw it shrinking from the energetic joggers and speed walkers, and felt a sense of kinship with it. Even though I got a baleful look at the fact that I crouched down to take its picture that early in the morning, I thought I’d share it with my readers. 

So tell me. How are you in the mornings?

🫐 It’s a 🫐 Plum 🫐 Life! 🫐

🫐 It’s Plum Season 🫐

I’ve written about the Joys of Jam Making.  I do love the fruitful camaraderie from plum season.

I waved at the Fed Ex truck driver as he turned into our street. The son said, urgency dripping in his voice, “Quick ma! Now you’ve established contact – you can give him some plums!”

I stared at him.

A beat.

Then. I started laughing.

The wag!

I have been accosting all those who come home with delicious plums, but this felt a bit much. Plum season in our neighborhood arrives with a splash. Suddenly, there are dozens of plums plopping all over the backyard. Ripe, tasty, beautiful plums.

🫐 Plums in a Splash 🫐

I cannot help missing the mater. If she were here, she would be making plum jams, plum chutneys, plum pickles, plum juice, plum rasam till we all heartily felt sick of plums. I myself have been going in and picking up plums by the dozen and bringing them in to share with friends. I can barely understand how quickly the bare tree, bloomed into the prettiest blossoms, and gave in to the light green beautiful leaves before sagging with fruits at every point.

It is a miracle, and yet, every year, I am mesmerized.

One day, I felt three plums hit me from the topmost branch. I was picking those that had fallen, and then realized that these three could have been the handiwork of squirrels. I looked up at them beseechingly. What was the point of all that exciting running around and chasing each other on fences if they weren’t helping out with the plums? As if responding to me, one cheekily stopped and held my stare, as if to say, “I have had my fill. A fella has got to jump and run!”

🫐 Did You Know? 🫐

Fruits arriving in bounty are a blessing. The children, despite my best retreats, continue to resist the lure of fruits. Every year I start it up – each time with a different taste-bud related tip. “Did you know? Your taste buds change over time?”

“Did you know having a fiber-rich helping of fruits helps your gut bacteria?”

“Did you know fruits help make you happier because the gut bacteria love digesting them?”

“Did you know this?”

Or

“Did you know that?”

To which, I also receive a plummy reply, “Did you know we don’t like plums?”

What I did not know until recently, is that not all plums dried become prunes. Of course I had a gooey rotting mess before I learnt that particular fact, but apparently, only a certain variety of European plums can be dried to be preserved as prunes. Oh well.

If I could send some plummy goodness via the internet, I would. But as it is, somethings still require physical proximity. But if you are in the vicinity, please stop by. We’ll have a plum time!

Moon, plum blossoms, this, that, and the day goes

Kobayashi Issa

Celebrating Earth Day: A Perspective on Time

Google’s Doodle on Earth Day was images of earth scapes, and I remember drifting from there to thinking of the different things Earth represents. Not philosophically, not in a dead-without-planet way, but in a mind’s eye sort of way.

Happy Earth Day! 

Rain, sunshine, rainbows
Lakes, rivers, oceans

Cranes, wrens, ducks
Elephants, horses, leopards

Willows, pines, maples
Hydrangeas, lilies, roses

Snails, caterpillars, worms
Dogs, cats, monkeys

Whales, manta rays, dumbo octopi
Kelp, seagrass, phytoplankton

Snow, sand, silt
Mud, marsh, quicksand

Hurricanes, avalanches, tsunamis
Floods, droughts, famines

Mountains, knolls, ridges
Valleys, trenches, canyons

Leaves, trunks, roots
Petals, flowers, nectar

All blanketed in our beautiful atmosphere
We can either breathe it all in or not think of it at all

It isn’t a very good poem. But it made me think of something my friend once told me when I lamented the state of our beautiful Earth. “The Earth will be fine. The only question is whether we will be fine on Earth.”

Wise words from a wise soul.

Earth will be fine!

I thought of that the other day as the son & I meandered around the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. It really is a marvelous museum. We found ourselves going twice to the Oceans section – The Sant Ocean Hall. There was one particular exhibit showing the range and number of species prior to The Great Dying, and after it all.

I cannot imagine the work that went into designing an exhibit like that. The number of geologists, naturalists, biologists, scientists: and then, the scientific accuracy, the research papers, the peer review. But I stood there taking it in, and really did want to go back to the time before the Great Dying. To see the different kinds of life in the oceans, the sheer enormity of it all compared to what we have now.

To think we live in a time of less than 1/4 the diversity and abundance of life, and it is still so beautiful. I realize human-beings could not have been there – we needed to find our place in the evolutionary queue, and all that. But if there was a way to get a peek, I would take it. Even if just a simulation. How do you simulate more jellyfish varieties, more squid varieties.

Even The Most Imaginative 

I remember one interview I watched of J K Rowling a while ago, in which she attempted to create a new mythical creature, and found after all her thinking, that the creature resembled our planet’s manta rays. Our human imagination, even from arguably one of the most imaginative person on the planet, is still limited. That is the vast expansive nature of the diversity on this Earth.

To think that Earth bounced back from an event like The Great Dying, and is thriving now, is remarkable. To think one species (us) is capable of wreaking havoc on a planet as resilient and marvelous as Earth is also something to think about.

https://ocean.si.edu/through-time/ocean-through-time

It is also amazing to realize that we are but a blip on the planet’s life. All our problems, our wars, our angsts – every thing that means so much to us, is but a blip. We rarely stop to think if what is bothering us now would be a problem for us next week, next year, next decade. Does Earth stop to think whether we will be a problem a few centuries from now, a few millennia, a few eras, a few eons?

It is our beautiful Earth Day, and I am grateful for the rainy day, the sun’s watery rays afterward, and the slowly forming into a sharp and exquisite rainbow.

A Spring Bike Ride: Discovering a Doe’s Beauty

The son & I went on a spring bike ride. Spring time beauty in the Bay Area has been extolled about plenty in my writing. So, regular readers already know the beautiful frame of mind in which we were when we started back. The headwind that had been pushing us back on the way to the bay, was working in our favor on the way back, and we decided to take a rather more meandering path. Through meadows – with little ponds on the way.

After a while, the son stopped, around a curve in the hillside, and signaled to me to slow down. I tutted. I had taken advantage of a downhill and zipped up hill with enough momentum to keep going. Now wasn’t the time to take a break. Besides, we had just stopped to admire the white of the gulls and egrets against the clouds less than two minutes prior.

“Why are …”

He turned around and placed a finger on his lips. I rolled my eyes and got off my bike to peer around the hillside at whatever he had stopped for. Couldn’t he see how his mother was looking after that hill?

We had been admiring the spring beauty all around us the whole way. Fresh greens were blooming on trees and shrubs. Thistles and wildflowers were everywhere. The wild mustard flowers were being enjoyed by hordes of singing blackbirds. We’d seen a congregation of egrets, a colony of gulls, and clouds of blackbirds. In fact, the last time I stopped to take a picture, I remember the son warning me about making it back on time.

Then I saw her. It was the most beautiful doe – she was young, skittish, and trying to get at some spring leaves standing there on the bike path. She had a look of utmost contentment on her face. Fresh greens must be especially tasty now. The leaves are sprouting everywhere, and the salad options must be wonderful to them. We watched her for a bit and then she took off up the hill. She met up with her mother, and nestled against her for a bit before bounding off again, her mother in hot pursuit.

She gave us a few stunning poses. We were, as ever, completely enamored.

Sometimes, gifts don’t announce themselves.

We biked back quieter than before. Sunset time means the song birds pipe up with extra vigor, and we were glad. We burst into the home, startling the husband like a deer in the headlights, rattling on about the sights he had missed.

This is the best thing about nature, isn’t it? You never know what you’ll see, but somehow it always manages to be just the thing you needed to see. 

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.

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.

Do Skunks Eat Ducks?

A few years ago, an aunt asked me, “Don’t you get bored looking at the same trees and park everyday?” She looked genuinely concerned because she had heard my mother-in-law say, yet again,  that I was setting off on my walk. 

They could not imagine why I would take the children on walks, or if they weren’t in the mood, then set off by myself. 

I was genuinely shocked. Not because of the question but because nature is very rarely boring. It is full of adventure and mystery, not to mention humor, and joy. 

Take for instance the morning walk a few days ago for me. 

Hibernation would be a marvelous pursuit

Winters in California can be tricky – cold, foggy, misty, cloudy, cold (did I mention cold already? Well – the cold this week is worth mentioning twice, so I’ll leave it). 

I went reluctantly for a walk. See climatic conditions mentioned above for explanations. When I get up in the morning these days, I fervently wish I was born a bear. Hibernation would be a marvelous pursuit. The self-help channels and articles are all banging on about getting enough sleep, and yet society wants you to be up and about for long hours and at absurdly cold times too. Ridiculous!

That morning I moaned about being awake, and the husband gave me an amused look. I snapped petulantly, “What?! I have to be awake all the time once I get up – till I sleep again!” 

“Isn’t that true for all creatures who aren’t nocturnal?”, he said, and I apparently replied in gibberish. Semantics. The point is, I did not want to get up. I do not want to get up. I do not want to start my day in the cold. But I do – everyday the alarm seems to go off earlier and earlier. It could not have been the whole night gone, could it?! I just got warm and comfortable. The comforter took that long to trap body heat, the heater did not turn on, the frozen nose took awfully long to thaw. 

But human-beings are resilient if nothing else. So, I dragged myself out into the cold. On my morning walk, the fog was still lifting, and the cold made me look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. Even the birds seemed to be quieter. No chirping, no loud squawking. 

Down in the riverbed, that I stopped to take a quick stroll before starting the day, life was slow too. I saw a great white egret with her little chick, some geese, some ducks, and a grey heron. All lethargic enough to match the atmosphere around them. 

What is that – a rat, mole, otter, weasel?

That’s when I saw the sleek quick movement of the water mole. The water must have been biting cold. The frost on nearby rooftops could confirm that much at least. Yet, the water rat or mole or weasel or otter (I honestly do not know) was sleek and fast. 

I was fascinated. I started walking to keep pace with it, and looked on amused as it kept away from the waiting blue heron. Smart.

That’s when I saw a duck family nearby. The duckling must’ve hatched late. For it was the only one its size in vicinity. The water rat was gaining on it, and I held my breath.  That’s when I caught the white streaks on its tail. Ahh – it must be a skunk. 

Do Skunks Eat Ducks?

Would I be witness to a tragedy that early in the morning? A creature’s got to eat, sure. But can’t it be less gruesome than watching a little duckling being pulled under water? 

I willed the duckling to fly away, but it seemed oblivious. After what seemed like an eternity it sprang to life and ran away from the skunk. Slapping its webbed feet rapidly on the water like a basilisk – those creatures the children were fascinated with in elementary school. 

I released a huge breath of air – I hadn’t realized I had held my breath in for that long. 

Who says there is no adventure and mystery in nature? 

There’s plenty of it. I will have to tell the aunt all about it. 

The water-skunk went on its way, the sun slowly started to peek its way through the misty morning, and I jogged my spirits up to get back home and start a day of work.

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.

-Rachel Carson