Tag: Nature

🌲🌳🌴🎋Magic So Sublime 🌲🌳🌴🎋

“Do you see anything dramatically different today?” I quizzed the husband. He looked around him. We were standing outside the home before setting off on a walk. He looked blank, looked around, and then settled for his safe-bet. “Did you cut your hair? It looks good!”

I rolled my eyes. Honestly! 

“Nice try, but no!” Then, taking pity on him, I gave him a hint. “It is more to do with the immediate surroundings.”

He paused, looking up at the roof. Yesterday’s rains had us both rattled a bit. It isn’t often that we get up to the sounds of heavy rains lashing against our windows. It is a beautiful sensation, but a little fraught for us this time, since the last time, we found a pool of water had managed to seep in. This, after the roof repairman had stomped on the ceiling repairing things for sometime already. 

“Not the roof either! Look at the flora and fauna.” I said.

“Ahh – okay – that is easy.” Then went on to gabble on about flowers blooming, some plant surviving till I stopped his rambling, and said, “It is okay to give up, you know?”  

Then, with a dramatic flair, I pointed to the cherry blossom tree that only a day ago was fully white filled with blossoms. To be fair, I did not see it while it was raining. But one day later, it was there fully clothed in fresh green leaves – not traces of the tree in full bloom from just a day ago. 

How I wish the tree would tell us when it would do this? I would love to just set up a time-lapse video and sit watching it in slow rapture. When do you think the leaves actually sprout? Has anybody actually seen a leaf grow? This has to be some of the most sublime magic on the planet. 

🌸🌸🌸 Oubaitori in Spring Time 🌸🌸🌸

I felt a pang for the beautiful blooms of that tree – gone so quickly and completely, and then remembered that a month ago, it was bereft – a tree in abscission. Beautiful in its starkness, then resplendent in its white blossoms, and now lovely in its fresh greens. It is no wonder that cherry blossoms have captured the hearts and minds of philosophers for centuries – the simple lessons of enjoying the beauty of the moment, the oubaitori to bloom and sprout at your own pace.

Witnessing Nature: A Baby Egret’s Journey to Independence

 

No swimming No diving No fishing

The sign that greets the visitor to the riverside can be daunting. 

If one wonders why they never heard the whooshing sounds of the gushing river waters as they made their way up to the riverside, it is because there usually isn’t any. The mighty river retains its classification by becoming a river for about three days a year when there is heavy rainfall. Like a courtly princess who only dresses in regalia at Christmas.

The rest of the year, it trickles like a stream, while the major portion of the riverbed is lush with vegetation. It is the teeming home to plenty of wildlife – deer, blue herons, geese, coots, ducks, grebes, red tailed hawks, blackbirds, egrets, harriers, turkeys, turkey vultures, owls, wild cats, squirrels, rabbits, the occasional fox or coyote, possibly small snakes and fish in the simmering strip of waters. 

The trail by the riverside is, however, a charming place and one that always manages to lift your spirit. The stirrings of spring are in the air all around us, and we decided to go for a run / walk / bike / drive (No guesses for matching the family member with mode of transport ) to enjoy the river. Pale pink and white cherry blossoms on thick dark brown branches, clusters of chamomile in gardens, squirrels bustling up and down garden fences and hugging trees, geese squawking their way out in the world. It is a beautiful world and one that can ensure one forgets all the breaking news if only for the hour or so by the riverside.

An Egret’s Dash For Independence

A few minutes into the run, I watched fascinated as a baby egret chick stood by its mother in the marshy waters. Even in my first glimpse, my heart leaped, for the egret chick showed a fierce determination for independence. It edged away – throwing a look towards its mother, and the mother let her (or him) go. By this time, I had jogged on a bit, and the egret chick had clearly had enough of waddling away from its watchful parent and took to flying. The mother let it go, and then followed a few minutes later, setting herself down a little further upstream so she could keep an eye on the little one. It was a charming scene, and the egret and the watchful mother kept me entranced for several minutes. 

There is so much to learn from springtime with regards to parenting. Nest building is happening in earnest, and it is a common sight to watch a crow or a wren pick up some twigs to line their little nest. The geese will have their goslings soon, and those are the best to watch. The same loud, sometimes rude geese, somehow have the most obedient goslings. 

I was attracted once again by the egret chick and found myself looking for the mother. This one had certainly taken off a ways, and I watched a little nervously as a rambunctious dog broke into a run and came careening into the riverbed. I almost stopped and called for the egret mother and urged the chick to run. But I needn’t have worried. Long before I saw the dog, the chick had heard, and flippantly flew across the stream landing elegantly on the opposite side. The egret’s mother flew by too, and went back to fishing a little further away. 

I was impressed – she kept an eye on her chick, gave it the space to learn to navigate danger, and kept giving the little one the space and security to grow. 

All was well. Everyone was having their fun, their adventure and their springtime joys. I smiled and peered ahead to see the son way ahead of me.

The Mantra of Mass Misery

It was a beautiful weekend after a rushed week. On a whim, I decided on a walk by the bay. The waters of the bay with its myriad reflective powers, always helps to bring on the magic of expansive thinking. No two moments are the same here – the shimmering colours seldom fail to invoke that glimmering feeling of hope, the waves helping us think of the ebbs and flows of life. 

Meanwhile, out there, the world continued its dip further and further into its dystopian gloom, and I felt only something as powerful as nature itself would help. As I watched the birds titter and start their early morning songs, I mused on the callings of power. 

Promises, Promises

How ironical it was that every fascist dictator who came to power, rode on a promise of better times – often divisive slogans, and increased prosperity to certain segments, only to be followed by a regime running on a mantra of mass misery. 

After all, a prosperous populace is a demanding one. They want accountability, progress, intellectual discussions, better this and better that. They want to achieve prosperity, feel valued, etc – all the things abhorrent to total power. 

It isn’t even a month since the latest one assumed power and already society is reeling from the clutches of the many pronged tentacles of misery. It seems anything related to the finer and higher order thinking of humankind is not to be spared:  Art, education, humanitarian aid, medical aid, international peace. 

For once we get people worried about the daily grind, they would not have the power or splunk to protest, would they?  If they do, the next rule in their book states to create more and more distractions so that strife and misery are so widespread, no one is keeping track anymore. Keep moving their attention to the base of the pyramid.

It is astounding how so many fascists do not even bother to change that strategy, for it has worked every time throughout history. Every time the vulnerable and the gullible get taken in by promises of prosperity, till it comes back to bite them. Every time. 

“Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back!”

― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

While musing on the world’s spiral into fascism, my attention was brought back swiftly to the skies where a war was waging between a hawk and a couple of crows. Maybe the hawk had attempted to take a chick or attacked the crow’s nest, but the crows weren’t having it. If I hadn’t seen the savage anger and relentless driving away of the hawk by the crows, I might never have believed it.

Just like that, nature had shown the way out. Humans have spirit. We may not feel like we have much agency over what is happening now, but when things get out of hand, wouldn’t we, like the crows, rise against the hawks in our lives?

Knights of Rain

“Don’t you feel like a Knight of Rain?” I said. The words must have sounded somewhat garbled for the rains were lashing, the winds were whipping, and the trees were swaying somewhat alarmingly.

The husband shouted out a response lost to the elements. It sounded like ‘WHAT?!”

“I moved so I could use the wind’s direction to my advantage. “I said, don’t you feel like a Knight of the Rain?”

He lifted his umbrella momentarily to give me a withering look. A mistake. For the winds elegantly made an upside down lotus of the black umbrella he was holding, and he danced to right it again. I saw a neat few buckets of water making use of the interlude to rain its droplets all over him. 

I smiled. “Using our umbrellas as shields, we make our brave foray into the wild world frenzied up by the elements.”

I heard some grunting and tutting, but nothing more.

This year, the rains have been particularly sparse. Yesterday was only the second day of proper rainfall, and I’d yearned for it. Obviously not wanting to miss the fun, I dragged the husband along for a short stroll – in my defense it was not as bad when we started out. There were no warriors required then – merely prancers. Every little raindrop whispering its presence out to the world craving for its sound.

I’ve always loved the piece by YiruMa with the sound of the rain in the background.It feels like the magic was music was just waiting for that sound to make the transition from beautiful to sublime.

If They Could Do It, So Could We

🌲🌳🌴🎋 I peeked out from the umbrella at the branches of the pine trees and willow trees swaying and dancing in the rain, I felt the joy building up inside me – if they could do it, so could we! 

🦅🐿️🐦‍⬛🦢I heard the sound of the winds and the rains against our flimsy shields of cloth, and marveled at the wood ducks enjoying themselves in the waters. When the rains stopped, they took just shook themselves off, with a little dance, didn’t they? If they could do it, so could we!

🐳🐟🪼I felt the trickle of chill water droplets that managed to shimmy past my umbrella’s shield and my jacket’s hood to slide down my neck, and gurgled a bit. I peered out. Were we lost – where were we? If the lost fish could find their way to the streams, and the streams to the rivers, and the rivers to the mighty ocean, so could we!

Who needs raincoats when there are rain quotes?

When finally the pair of us stepped into the home, one euphoric, and the other helpless. “Wasn’t that the most marvelous walk in a long time?”  collided with “Only an idiot would step out in this weather.”. It was like watching hydrogen peroxide mix with yeast and water. The laughter shaking out of our systems with the rain droplets. 

“I need a change of clothes before heading out now.” he grumbled but I caught a smile, as he shook his head and said, “A walk in the rain!”

Who needs raincoats when one is busy looking for rain quotes?

“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.”

– Roger Miller

Embracing Nostalgia & Innovation in Switzerland

Is Nostalgia Good?

The trip over the winter break seemed to have a fair share of nostalgia. It reminded me of this scene in Inside Out – 2 where the teenage brain is filled with a whole new range of new emotions: ennui, embarrassment, guilt, anxiety, nostalgia etc. When Nostalgia comes in, they all tell the poor emotion that the girl is perhaps too young for nostalgia and I remember laughing. So what does that say about us now that we are nostalgic?!

Switzerland

Twenty three years after we’d last visited Switzerland, we went there again. I am not sure it felt like 23 years had elapsed between the last time we’d been there and now, but the magic was still there. The US has spoilt us in the intervening years with its spots of unimaginable scenic beauty, so that the awe that I had on my first visit had subsided somewhat. After all, 23 years ago, it was the first time I was reveling in a snow covered countryside.

For someone who had only seen pictures of it, or seen the Himalayan snow from afar, the joys of freshly fallen snow cannot be described. Add a happy newly-wed husband to the mix, and there can be no higher form of magic.

“The first snow is like the first love. Do you remember your first snow?”

  • Lara Biyuts

Even so, this time around, it was still unimaginably beautiful.

There were a great many things to love in Switzerland in the winter. For instance, the rains and snowfall that swept the entire nation in one grand stroke. We are used to localized rainfall, and maybe slightly larger areas being affected at once, but it was brilliant to see it raining all across Switzerland one evening. We knew because we drove from Geneva to Spiez via Bern and Lausanne through the pouring rains and it never let up. By the time we reached Bern, it had started to snow mildly making it a beautiful ride.

“The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?”

― JB Priestley

The Magic of Snow

The feeling of getting up to a snow covered landscape, as overnight the skies worked their magic, is breath-taking.

When first you open the curtains and look out into the world outside blanketed in snow, there is a sense of the precious, the divine, and the surreal. How could a cold brown, green and gray world be transformed into one of such purity and innocence overnight? One must be lucky to witness the first heavy snowfall of the season. The transformation could lead to closed roads, snow chains and winter storms, yes, but it could also lead to an expansive imagination of our senses. Our senses, so often honed to look inwards, and be busy as we let moment after moment flit by us, suddenly seems to hold in its power the ability to remain still, quiet and the beauty to examine the infinite within and around us.

The simple pleasures of blowing smoke out your mouth, of watching the bare tree branches glitter and sparkle with the new snow, of seeing beautiful hillsides blanketed in fresh snow never gets old. That is always joyous I think.  And life, marvelous life, in these environments! It was astounding how we were standing atop the very top of the Jungfraujoch – nicknamed the Top of Europe, feeling like we can never feel warm again in the cold that was enveloping us, while ravens were enjoying the lift of the winds there to have a perfectly nice day. No thermals, jackets or socks for these birds – no sir! Just a swirl and twirl of the wind would do.

Really! Lessons of joy and resilience can be found anywhere, anytime if only we care to look.

Embracing Innovation: Automobiles in the past two decades

Automobiles have come such a long way in 23 years – ABS, automatic lane detection systems, navigational systems, Google Assistant for cars. They are game changers – we had rented an XC90, and it was truly amazing in its capabilities. 

No more fumbling with paper maps, wondering how long it would take to go from Place A to Place B etc. For those of us who hark back to the simpler times, this is one arena in which I would not. Technology companies have made navigational capabilities so fantastic, one wonders how we managed before the advent of these technologies – maybe that’s why we sat around singing sad songs lost in the countryside, or fumbling about and trying to draw rabbits out of stars to help guide us through.

Verdict:

This nostalgia is good.  The power of the infinite beauty held in each snowflake, that is able to transcend time is very good.

The Beauty of Rainy Days and Mystical Mornings

Some say that talking about the weather is exceedingly dull. I disagree.

Take for instance, this adventurous morning:

Misty mornings

I stepped out to the early morning air and found myself completely enveloped in a misty, foggy, cold, moisture ridden world. I shivered delightfully at that. Somehow the atmosphere lilted the eucalyptus scents towards me even if we could not see 10 feet in front of us. 

The atmosphere yanked me by my navel and took me in beautiful swirls of thought to the beautiful Nilgiri Hills – a place where the Western Ghats meet the Eastern Ghats in the South of India. Almost all of my childhood was spent in misty mornings, and rainy reveries. In my mind, if ever there was Utopia, it was there, soaked in that magic.

The slow lifting of the mists as the suns rays pierced through the clouds is divinity itself. 

<pic of the sun’s rays bursting through the clouds>

The crisp sunny afternoon followed by a cloudy and rainy evening sang its Christmas carols all on its own. 

Heavy Downpours

We also received our first heavy downpour of the season and it brought leaky roofs, streams of muddy waters, and swelling rivers in its wake. It was delightful.

We had all been wringing our hands a bit, and saying to each with worried tones, “It is going to be a dry year again!” “Was it always like this?” and so on. Like worried climate doctors.  If I remember it correctly, even a decade ago, we had pretty good rains. But maybe I wasn’t as attentive to the data before. There seems to have been whole periods in life when the busyness of it dwarfed the ability to observe these things. 

I mused on these things, and read a book sitting by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree that day. 

Interconnectedness of the Universe

Some mornings, I stare up at the breath clouding near my mouth on foggy winter mornings while making a little fake-smoke-joke, and am astounded that the long dark nights still find a way to foggy mornings. If I go walking at night, to catch the Christmas lights twinkling in the community, I’ll look up at the stars if the sky is clear, and wonder whether our lives would be any different if one of those stars decided to not shine and sparkle. 

Would it be a cascading effect – or would the distance protect us? Who knew?

Then, I wonder whether it is as the children say: Is it a bit odd to be this enamored by a thing as simple as the weather at my age? At any age?

Still, it is wondrous that we live on a tiny blue planet, cloaked in a delicate veil of an atmosphere, that allows for all of this to unfurl around us. If that isn’t magical, I don’t know what is. There is a word for this – the feeling of wonder at the world around us. Several words, in fact. So, it isn’t odd and I can assure entirely satisfying to be this kooky about being excited by the weather. 

Embracing Simplicity in Dramatic Times

The Calm before the Storm

I stood for a few minutes under the cloudy skies of winter, looking out into the ponds, lakes and rivers near our home. It was after the first proper rainfall of the season – and I was trying to capture the still quiet in my being. The stormy clouds above were portending another storm coming, but for now, all was calm. The herons watched (their demeanor not as impassive as it usually might be perhaps, or perhaps that was my own anthropomorphism) as the clouds gathered strength.

I couldn’t help asking the universe to help us through stormy seasons with the same impassivity that these herons showed.  

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As the year wraps, I feel a sense of dread. Humanity’s craving for the dramatic is probably a defining characteristic of the species (although to be fair, I am not sure whether geese crave the drama too. They do seem to get all agitated, and excited for seemingly no reason when you observe them).

A Dramatic Shift?

Regardless of political leanings, I think we can all agree that the change in presidency is going to lean heavily towards the dramatic – we saw it all the last time around. News frenzies, whipped up emotions, and a lot of emotions that probably look good on reality shows, but not in our daily lives. 

“Sometimes I wish something dramatic would happen once in a while.”, said Rilla

“Don’t wish it. Dramatic things always have a bitterness for someone.” said Miss Oliver

– Rilla of Ingleside: L M Montgomery

America did not just make an election choice, it elected for chaos. We seem to have forgotten so many things:

  • We forgot that the hiring and firing, and the incessant news cycles, gave little room for anyone to actually do any of the work that mattered to them
  • We forgot that thinking in long-term strategies is what separates humans from any other species on the planet – save ants, and squirrels maybe. 
  • We forgot that one ridiculous policy after another is all it takes for the house of cards to start crumbling down.
  • We forgot that having a leader spout not just dangerous, but frankly lustful language is what their young daughters and sons are listening to. That will be their new norm – it hurt me more than anything that the voter turnaround was significant in the 20-30 young men demographic nationwide. That means, we have a value system that is ready to spout whatever it is they are going to hear in the next few years for all their wives and children.
  • We forgot the study where sociologists were baffled when crime went down suddenly in the late 80’s. It was because there was a whole generation of unwanted babies who were not born thanks to Roe V Wade in the 70’s. In the 80’s, these babies would have entered their troubled adolescence trying to make sense of a world where they were unwanted. 
  • We forgot how easy it was to make one feel as ‘other’ – divisive lines everywhere.
  • We forgot the lack of empathy and compassion that our daily messages bore.

The older I get the more I wish people interesting, dull, and predictable lives – it seems so much better than the dramatic. 

“After all,” Anne had said to Marilla once, “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”

― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

Bracing for the Storm

I opened my eyes and took in the heron by the lake. It had barely moved – because it knew that storm or no storm, it would have to wait and pass the moments in the day as best as it can. 

I looked up and saw the storm gathering force. I felt the first few droplets fall on my nose, and hurried back. It was time to brace for the storm.

Preparing for Tsunami Warnings: Lessons Learned

 Emergency Warnings – Tsunami 

A week ago, we were all a-twitter. You see? We received a tsunami warning. There had been a 7.0 earthquake in Northern California – about 3 hours north of where we live.

We technically live not near the coast but we are quite close to the bay in the Bay Area.

This was the first tsunami warning we had received. So, while the tsunami warning made sense, we also had no idea on what to do with it. So, we did the only thing that humans in modern times do: Took to the phone and tried figuring out what others thought.

What is a yellow warning? We live a few miles from the shores of the bay – could that mean a sudden inundation?

Responding to Warnings

There are times when mass communications (by that I don’t mean communicating to the masses, I mean masses of communication) make sense, but this was not one of those occasions. Everyone said different things, people worried. Staying away from the bay seemed like a good option, but apart from that, no one had any idea on what to do. Should we head to the hills like we’d read long back somewhere?

So, we all did a lot of hand-wringing and sent more messages. Ultimately, the tsunami warning was revoked, but not before letting us know exactly how unprepared we were in case of a real emergency.

When that alert had come it was up to us to determine the next course of action. For one thing, we were a couple miles inland, so what was required of us? That’s when I realized the old fears I had for our little family when we both worked on the other side of the bay. I had wondered what might happen in case of an earthquake that stranded us all on the other side of the Bay. But a Tsunami could just as well have done that. 

The tsunami warning was lifted, and in a few hours, people went about their business as usual. Which is to say traffic snarls were everywhere, week-end parties and events did not bother to acknowledge that which could have been life altering.

It is a testament to the human temperament that we can so flippantly treat that which could have been a disaster with a wave of the hand. 

🦌 Emergency Drills -Earthquake, Fire 

I volunteer in elementary schools from time- to-time. The experience is a wholly enriching one as I get to work with children – which is refreshing. They are inventive, imaginative, kind and un-jaded in their outlook towards life.

I got to experience an earthquake and fire drill with them one day, and I cannot tell you how impressed I was by their skill and competence. Even when scrambling under desks – they looked out for each other as much as possible. When they filed out into the fields nearby, they kept to their classrooms and straight lines, and I was more than impressed by them on more than one occasion that day. 

I had seen firsthand how incompetent adults could be, when the tsunami warning came, and it was refreshing to see children knowing how to handle fire and earthquake warnings.

I suppose natural disasters are called that for a reason. They are erratic, chaotic, and tend to surprise humanity every time even with emergency warning systems, safety drills and the like. The school systems managed to highlight these things and taught me a thing or two: keep calm and fall back upon training.

Nature’s Ephemeral Splendor: Winter’s Whimsy

Winter is taunting in its loveliness.

The Thanksgiving break breezed in and breezed out – with a whirl of color, warmth of friends, and the whimsy of the winds. Cooking, baking, singing, dancing, playing, hiking, walking, admiring – all the wintry delights we’ve come to associate with the holiday season were there, and I wished for the same for every one of us. 

Our friends, who had visited us from Seattle, had us smiling as they exclaimed each day, “Oh – it is so beautiful to see the sun shining like this!” They purred like contented cats in the sun, and we went on many little and long walks to take in all of this.

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I glanced at the beautiful trees overhead and sighed a little today – December is already here and though the rains are keeping away, I knew the beauty of the fall leaves is already fast diminishing. Why does fall – one of the favorite seasons of the year have to be ephemeral?

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Well, all glorious periods are ephemeral aren’t they?

I suppose philosophers would say that beauty lies in the ephemeral nature of it, and I agree. I have never felt more content than when looking up into a tree that is gloriously sporting all colors in its beautiful foliage – green through maroon, or while gazing into the golden benevolence of a gingko tree. 

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However glorious days bring with it a problem – that of summoning up the determination required to stay indoors and doing work while all of the world outside beckons you to celebrate with it? How does one ignore the joyous swooping of a California blue jay?

Well, one doesn’t.

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November’s Purpose

The world seemed to be buzzing with purpose, and I set out thinking about lofty human ‘angsty-things’ as the children called it too. What was our purpose – is there such a thing? Did ducks, hawks, deer, dogs pander after silly existential questions? We would never know!

It was a beautiful November day – one of those days that poets and artists can spend all their lives dreaming about. It truly was a delight to step out into the sparkling cold air, raise your head to take in the glorious panorama of the skies above through the glorious reds and yellows of the maple, beech, sycamore and willow trees.

As long as autumn lasts, I shall not have hands, canvas and colours enough to paint the beautiful things I see

– Vincent Van Gogh

The yellow leaves were looking golden in the sun’s rays, and the reds were nothing short of royal. We took a dozen pictures but knew there was nothing to be done but to sit and soak into the world around us. So we did.

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I set about closing my eyes to try and capture the day in my memory under a particularly fetching set of trees – it was after some time that I found myself called back by a bird. It wasn’t the shrill call of the california blue jay or the titter of the wrens, or the frenzied call of hummingbirds. Curious, I opened my eyes to see which bird it was. Imagine my surprise when I saw it was a woodpecker. It swooped low by me and flew to an adjacent clump of trees, and I followed as silently as I could. Though I realize that for birds and animals I must sound like a stampeding rhino. 

There – up above the smooth branches of some beech trees were a whole family of woodpeckers. They weren’t hammering their heads as they were known to do. The baby woodpecker’s downy feathers were still growing, and the sight made my heart still – more effective than any form of meditation I have ever attempted. 

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It was like an invitation to witness the simple pleasures of nature on a glorious day. I don’t know how long I stood watching the woodpeckers, but the head’s questions of purpose and meaning seemed rather meaningless just then, for the simple beauty of being alive on a beautiful day like this and being able to bear witness to the passing seasons with a heart full of gratitude felt like purpose enough.