Coming Soon

 

Tomorrow I will get up early so that I can listen to the curlews, the only creatures at the early hours of the morning that disturb the prevailing peace. 

I will admire the flowers, drowsy with morning dews, bowing their heads to greet the sun and the rabbits can come and stare at me while I sit, watch and dream away the precious hours in my garden.

It is important to acquire these morning rituals to withstand the barbaric world of modernity where methods are many, principles are few.  

 

The summer sunlight is now slowly fading. Before we know it, the north-east winds and gales are going to pounce on us and rattle the windows like an angry intruder. 

Migratory birds used to grieve and disappoint me because of their lack of staying power. But now, I do not feel discouraged by their departure. 

I admire their undiminished zeal and I look at them as very astute entrepreneurs who make a quick decision to pack up and move to another place if it offers more opportunities to start afresh. I wish I could be more like them.     

 

Acceptance in the transition of seasons and the transience of life is one thing that we learn from living close to nature. The salty sea air is now filled with the scent of harvest, the smell of ripeness; peas, barleys, corns and apples.      

 

For now, I shall think of a perfect closure to what has been, a very brief and yet, unforgettable summer this year. 

I shall never forget the joy of holding my favourite books while I read in the garden. One of my all time favourite books is Break of Day by Colette. Tomorrow I shall read Break of Day in my garden and I shall marvel at Colette’s dazzling prose and fill my thirsty soul with beautiful thoughts and images from her writing.

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope

For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,

For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith

But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

~ Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot ~