In the drought we long for mist; in the cool months, long-past summers fuel our dreams.
We live in a world in-between: forgetting to delight in the now. Forgetting to be present to the beauty that exists today.
This day.
Every day.
It's so hot and dry: the hills baked to the colour of ginger-crunch, the lake a desert oasis, the strange mist of a few mornings-ago a cool blessing.
The mist rose early, so deep that the world disappeared in its moist white embrace.
It pressed its damp cheeks to the house, repelling the sun that would disperse it.
We were all alone, marooned on an island of cloud.
Gone was the lavender outside the bathroom window; gone the burned grass bank behind it. Gone the rabbits, the pukekos, the hunting cat. The lake and ponds gone - erased from the canvas while we slept.
The mist pressed a cool compress to the baked earth. It smothered the sighs of the wilting olive trees, it caressed the dried arrangements that once bore fruit. It whispered to the land that one day the drought would end.
The quiet, shrouded earth rested, recovered a little.
The bell-bird who sips each morning from the flax flowers stayed in its nest. The tui in the gum, no more, no more.
No magpies gargled. No frogs creaked. No plants tap-tapped against the side of the house.
The morepork slept, his head pillowed on his chest, dreaming of the hunt just finished.
The clock ticked, time shuffled its weary feet, light imperceptibly slipped through the muffling mist.
The lavender - usually bee-buzzed by now - ghosted silently, empty against the window.
The trees tiptoed back into place, trailing cottony shrouds behind them.
Soft glints of sky peeled off the lake, the parched world was reviving.
The birds ran quiet sound checks before one by one rediscovering their voice, and they hailed the bright, hard sky as it returned.
Drought, broken for a brief time, is so much easier to bear. A promise glimpsed eases our pain, allowing us to appreciate anew the beauty here and now.
It's just a season: its time is limited.
The world will return to rights.
Relax, wait, enjoy.
This time too, will pass.
1 comment:
Yay, I'm the first to comment on your blog. I hadn't looked at it in a while because I thought publishing had halted - but it hasn't! I have just read all your posts - they're awesome. You are such a brilliant wordsmith. I will look forward to the next installment...
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