March 30, 2013

An eager spring, an earnest walk

                                              (image courtesy:

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 on 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 to ourselves that we must do more walks soon.

March 25, 2013

Long winter

                                                  (image courtesy:

It has been a really long winter. Today, the 25th of March, 2013. Morning is here. The Sun is increasingly shy at this hour. Hiding behind thick clouds. Clouds; hoarders of snow. It's going to snow today. Again? Yes. That's what the weather-channel says.

The grass is simply brown. Many of us miss it being green. When will it turn to its true colours?

The trees are bare. The branches seem brittle. But the roots continue to hold them together. Skeletal structures against a clandestine sky?

Birds. They have started returning. To still-bare trees, empty branches, browned grass, brooks that don't exist. Flowers that don't bloom. Buds that haven't yet appeared.

Squirrels. Their winter sojourn has ended. Their winter supplies run out. They run hither thither for petty morsels. For daily existence. The oaks are silent, still and secretive. No sign of leaves. Then, when will they start their acorn shower?