Four Seasons

What colours would you find on a tree? Why, green leaves and brown bark, of course. And a lawn? Green grass and brown earth, of course.

So much for all the things that were "of course" back in India. As autumn takes hold here, slowly but surely, the world transforms around me. The ground and the trees form a delightful, motley tapestry of gold, orange, red, yellow, green and brown. So this is what they mean by autumn! The wonders of a temperate climate! Art seems no longer the realm of Man, but of God.

Think further, for when winter bites with icy grip, the same trees will be covered with shiny white snow; and when spring arrives, the barren trees will magically be re-endowed with green leaves. We know all this; yet the fact that I learnt it in 4th grade geography does not lessen the child-like wonder it instills in me.

I'm reminded, immediately, of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, a powerful violin-based musical composition that captures the emotions, the soul of the changing seasons. Playful spring, angry summer; wistful autumn, sorrowful winter. I do not know if those were indeed the emotions he intended to portray, yet I would swear that those are emotions the music invokes in me. Not just the music; from what I've seen of nature here in summer and autumn, it seems to be an accurate portrayal of Mother Nature's feelings, which, in turn, percolate down to me as I pull up a chair to watch the skies and the trees.

Wistful, of splendour lost; sorrowful, in the wake of the loss; playful, with the return of strength and hope; angry, with the pride and vanity of regained strength.

Sounds too similar to the life of humans, for my comfort.

Cheers,
Prashanth.