While in the northern hemisphere, people are looking forward to spring, here we are rolling into autumn and it is my most favourite season. The lovely rain arrived after weeks and weeks of sunny weather that burnt the grass and while walking in the rain I could smell the wet fallen leaves on the brown looking lawn, reminded me of a poem written by D. H. Lawrence
“… Falling seeds of rain; the seed of heaven on my face falling – I hear again like echoes even that softly pace… The winds that tread out all the grain of tears, the store harvested in the sheaves of pain…”
Puddles from pools of water splashed as I stepped into them as in the childhood puddles I was so fond of and wondering where I would end up. Nowhere I guess, but just to wait and wait till winter to descend with cold wind and freezing sunny days drying my puddles out. I am so much older now to believe in the fairy tales and what a shame!
Though I still love the rain in autumn as I love you…
“This is the most controlled floral I’ve done in a while. I loved the streak of the blue-purple amethyst that’s like a butterfly in the night. And alone in the night garden I sat thinking of you. The summer evening filled with sweetness while the heat of the day turned my hydrangea all brown. Iris was also your favourite flower as with yellow rose and red cyclamen and many more. So when I happened to paint them you entered my thoughts, and I felt so alone without you. No hand to hold or even just to touch the tips of your fingers. Here in the night with the moon and the stars, I sat alone in my garden…”
Super moon came and went for three days now and I still haven’t been able to have a glimpse of it. Not because I did not look, but the sky over Fremont clouded so thick every night with constant rain. There were sunny patches but only during the day when gusty winds occasionally managed to chase the clouds away.
Wandering through the rose garden by the Seattle zoo where autumn is making room to welcome winter as the leaves turning from yellow-red to brown while the trees looking bare and shivering. Scattering around were some lonely flowers desperately hung on to thorny branches knowing soon enough they too will fade and die.
But fear not, when spring follows winter, the next generation of roses will assuredly bloom much more beautiful as I watched a team of gardeners hard at work nurturing them with definite care if not tender and loving.
And I remembered on this spot where I sat, in the brilliant summer sun of last year. The roses may have been so much prettier though I saw none but pain and grief through tears…
Suddenly the sun moved behind the cloud, casting a more sombre shade and I thought I felt some tiny drops… is that rain?
Words that depicted the scene of this painting or was it my painting being inspired by these words that stirred my heart and soul? Whichever, I cannot live without neither.
“…That was at that sober hour when the light of day is receding. And from surrounding things the hues wherewith day has adorned them. Fade like the hopes of youth, till the beauty of earth is departed. Pensive, thought or not in thought I stood, beholding mountain and lake and vale; the valley disrobed of its verdure. Under the woods reposed; the hills that calm and majestic, lifted their heads in the silent sky… Earth was hushed and still; all motion and sound were suspended: Neither man was heard, bird, beast, nor humming of insect. Pensive I stood, and alone: the hour and the scene had subdued me…” R. Southey
… And as I gazed in the west, where infinity seemed to be open, I felt as though this life is not a “thraldom” as felt by Mr Southey, but it is heaven on earth…
I am very much settled back into daily routine after my big trip yet, the life journey is still miles and miles ahead and that I will have to continue on. I have learnt a lot during my recent travel: About myself, about other people and about what I valued and who I let go. I was fortunate indeed to have had that time just for myself and there was only one person that I would be grateful for. I could not help but to think that he might have arranged it all for me and I love him even more though he is no more, but he taught me to meet “life” with courage!
There was one sunny day during the past three weeks, apart from that it had been raining steadily for many days; the purple winter sky was dark and threatening. At times, the heavens opened and the rain came rushing down over the roof of the house, filled up the gutters, emptying itself on the ground turning my already soaking garden into patches of muddy puddles.
As a child I used to imagine that if I walked into the puddles I might be in another world. I did try, and another world came to me…
I seem to hear a bar of music float
And swoon into the west;
My ear can scarcely catch the whispered note,
But something in my breast
Blends with that strain, till both accord in one,
As cloud and colour blend at set of sun.
Till the thin clouds wear away
Into threads of purple-grey,
And the sudden stars between
Brighten in the pallid green;
As the day ends to rest
The sunset does its best
Setting on fire the lively waves
Colouring orange the nature he saves
its pure ancient glorious perfection.
The great ocean will receive
The burning sun who’s going to leave.
Slowly comes the night
Devouring that magic light:
we are still suspended in a great delight.
A poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
All night, the wind was howling outside, at times sounded like a whole army of tanks running down my street, other times it was like the roof of my house was about to take off. This morning the sun was out, I went down to the bay and saw not a soul, not even a lone seagull, she would not be so silly to venture out in this weather. It was not easy to walk on the beach, as the wind was so gusty my sunglasses covered with sand but I managed to hold my camera steady for a few quick shots.
“And in my dream, I went down to the beach again, to the calm clear bay and the vast blue sky, to the whispers of the waves lapping upon the shore. At the water’s edge, endlessly moving tides, so gentle in the light breeze. A lone seagull skipped, pecking and probing, looking for tasty morsels and giving out joyful trill.
In the distant grey mist of the sea, I did not see any “tall ship”, only an occasional vessel carrying containers of goods, quietly creeping across the horizon towards the port across the bay.
Gentle ripples brought in seaweed and tiny seashells; I seemed to hear a bar of music in the whistling wind and my thought wandered. My gaze focussed on the footprints where the soft sand was trampled on. Someone must have walked by with that same weird gait I smiled at the thought wondering if the gentle spirit was sending me a message.”
In the afternoon, the light was brighter, appearing through the clouds shifting and changing, through quick downpours and the gusty winds. The one afternoon that was better to stay in-door. The sweet music helped to sooth the restless soul looking for inspiration that almost within reach, I stumbled on an old yellow piece of cutting…
All night naked you and I – In love and sleep together lie – And as we toward each other turn – Our bodies make the darkness burn – Brighter than day: we touch and find – That flesh can see when eyes are blind.
Time stops: but still the night must fade – We rise into daylight’s shade – And like two strangers dress and move – As if unconscious of our love – But with our eyes we still embrace – And touch each other’s naked face.