The morning after

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The whole of yesterday, it poured. Little drops of rain kept trickling down the roof tops and the barks of trees. I woke up this morning to find the rain continuing to come down, in a contented, spirited fashion; inviting me to be a part of it.

After the rain subsided, I took a quick walk to the park where my daughter plays often. She couldn’t step in as the entire park was one big ‘muddy puddle’ according to her. And she added, ‘ if you want to step in the muddy puddles, you need to wear boots.’ Rain had deterred other fellow apartment folks from stepping out, and we had the entire stretch of green for ourselves. The beauty of these lonely moments is the time and space it gives me, for listening to the inner voice, for the easy calm that prevails even when the birds chatter and twitter their way to glory. My daughter embraced silence after expressing her fine sentiments about the park and the puddles, and decided to sharpen her ears to capture all the bird sounds coming from the thick thickets in the adjoining wild land.

Imagine, just the two of us, juxtaposed against the untended green. We walked up to the fence that separates our vast meadow, as green as ever, from the greener terrain beyond; trees of all sizes, bushes of all shapes, tufts of grass heads, small and tall, host to a great many birds. The birds, happy after the showers, were singing about the resplendent beauty around, about the oodles of positive energy that pervaded the atmosphere. Their songs oozed so much happiness and cheerfulness, that it made me smile. When a bird called from what seemed like the left, in tandem, we looked to the left and repeated this to songs from the right. It was a moment of bliss in all its truthfulness.

We walked up to the brook that flows in through the condo complex. From a distance we heard, it rumble, mumble. Just a few days ago, when I had walked by this brook, the trees were still largely barren, their leaves only beginning to make their presence felt. But today, the trees looked mighty and powerful, spreading their ornate branches far and wide, giving us a great sense of security. Their leaves, a display of green, in its most luxuriant hues. The brook flowed by without expecting many compliments as it was one big ‘muddy river’. But, its energies were passed on to me dutifully. I can’t put my finger on that feeling that ensconces me during such moments. I am definitely happier than my usual self, I feel blissful, but it’s something beyond all that. I wish I could stay there forever, listening to the brook murmur, the woods hum, the birds sing, without expecting anything in return. They, I know for sure acknowledge my presence, for, they come up to my heart, and touch it in more ways than one, in such depths that I cannot fathom my own contentedness.

I am a daughter of the wild, and I will continue to be one.

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An Eager Spring, An Earnest Walk

The day before, I walked to the library with my eight year old. At the end of the walk, as we were returning with a small collection of books and a bunch of vegetables from the farmer’s market, my son proudly said; ‘We should do more of these walks, Amma, instead of always taking the car and polluting the environment.’ Though he made that statement at the lark of the moment, upon unexpected discoveries that gave him great joy and a whole lot of fresh air, I think he meant it.

During our short walk, we stopped by the bramble bushes and trees, the ones lining the busy roads, witness to all the city cacophony, all seemingly barren from a distance, but eager to burst out into yet another season, one of life and iridescent colors. Upon prying them with our eager eyes, we spotted millions of pointed buds, hard, but throbbing with life, dark on the outside, but a reservoir of shades. We looked closer and spied a shade or two on them; some green, some a passionate hue of pink, and still some others purplish.We bent a bit to look at a lowly twig, and stood on our toes to touch a bud on a higher branch. It was an unparalleled experience. We resisted the idea of clicking pictures, just so that we could live in the moment to the fullest.

As we entered the road that lead to our apartment, we also spotted a bird’s nest, nestled on a naked tree. Even from a distance, the nest looked vulnerable with absolute dearth of foliage to offer it any comfort or shade. In the frosty winter winds that just went by, agonizingly for months on end, the nest would have shuddered. Was it then, an abandoned one; we wondered. Other than a squirrel nibbling on crumbs of bread thrown off the patio by a resident eager- to- feed, we didn’t spot any action in the vicinity. No fluttering of wings, no twittering of songs. Of course, we know birds don’t always stay by their nests, the way we do 🙂 We then looked for feathers under the tree, at least one that would give us an idea of the bird house owner or tenant, but we found none.

We chatted our way home, about the sights and sounds, and promised ourselves that we must do more walks soon.

(Please find more of these musings at http://www.allfortheearth.blogspot.com)