Wednesday, 22h30

Snow, falling, softly.

t > 0

It is warmer today, so the snow is disappearing. You can still smell it though: crisp and fresh.

Winter

I left in a thunderstorm, one of those the Highveld is known for. Sunrise was at Doha, where everything seemed to be the colour of sand. Even the sky, although I imagined I could smell the Persian Gulf in the mist that hovered over everything. Most of Europe was hidden under cloud, it lifted just east of London, revealing a country covered in snow. Everywhere. White, with dark trees poking through, here and there a steely lake. More white. It might still be a response growing up with dusty, grey winter, or a reflection of the eurocentric children's books we read, but snow remains amazing. Or maybe I like the landscape simplified.

I had missed the actual precipitation, so the snow is older, staler, and more crunchy than soft. It's not warm enough to melt properly, so our road has turned into an icy slide. (Hip, shoulder, arm and wrist are all quite bruised). I've never had a white garden though.

Bits of grass are poking up through the snow, the garlic seems quite happy too. I can still dig out some frozen rocket, while the sage is still sagey. The chickens are scratching around on frozen ground, frustrated by their eternally frozen water bowl. The quails seem to huddle and wait.


We're planning this year's crop. This weather calls for root vegetables.

Mushrooms

I should have been expecting it, but the arrival of autumn still surprised me. Mild, sunny days quickly changed to days of solid rain. The world smells different. Wet. With the earthiness of decomposing leaves. Days are shorter, and shadows are longer. And the mushrooms appear, discreetly, very quietly.

So many of them: a city on the lawn.

1 September

It is the first day of spring (somewhere else).

Spring 2008

Saturday

It is raining gently. The soft wetness seems to envelope the town, leaving it quiet and peaceful. It is a productive Saturday. Not in terms of work, but measured by doing those little things that makes this life a better place.

I have a garden now. My baby chives are slowly straightening themselves from the dirt. Rocket too, and hopefully the coriander will follow. It's late in the season, but I'm hoping they'll all provide something before pausing for the winter. I just need a few bright and sunny days.


The housemate (yes, I'm on BB now) and companion are slowly being swept up in the bread making obsession. So lesson number two today. I sit, reading, while they measure, mix and knead. I tell them to relax (Is this a teaspoon of salt? Isn't this too much?), later I poke at the well-kneaded dough, show them how to shape and let it rest. The bread came out well, was extremely gratifying to all involved.

And the radiator, the wall and the wardrobe. No magic adventures here though - a previous occupant thought it wise to "brighten" the room by adding frivolous, some might say arbitrary panels of paint(probably from small containers). So I have a violent blue radiator (yes, blue can be violent), limish yellow and the same stubborn blue on the doors of my wardrobe, and stars and blocks all along one wall. I think a large part of my aesthetic displeasure with the decor is that I need to appropriate the space, make friends with it. And a coat of clear white helps a lot.

The end of spring

I think this might be the last magnolia in town. It certainly feels that way.

Spring

The first shoots appeared this week. Signs of life, shyly bursting into green. Excited, active plants always make me happy.

It's only now I realize that I never had a summer this year.

Snow

I wake up, check my email and find:

"The [seminar] tomorrow will run from 10:00-12:00 rather than 09:00-12:00. However, keep watching your emails in case the weather gets worse and we reschedule."

Bad weather?

I open my curtains, it takes a moment or two to realize the high contrast world outside is covered by snow. Not much, 5-8cm. But enough to make everything thoroughly white. Or at least monochrome.

I pull my boots on and run/slip off to the Itchen. A wide open expanse of more whiteness, skirted by the dark water of the river. On the football fields, a battle is being fought with snowballs, while an army of snowmen is born in the background.

Away from the excitement, in the quieter parts of the park, some unspoilt snow can still be found. The silence always surprises me: the noise of the city is swallowed, leaving you with only the scrunching of your footsteps.

At some point, I turn around and see how easily my tracks scarred the soft snow. I realize again how apt the phrase "virgin snow" is.

Feels like...

"Cold, grey, grim and damp" the weatherman called it.  It's probably the coldest day yet, the kind of weather I came expecting. But hadn't seen much of. So I added a layer of thermal underwear (that made me look like a cast member from Arende) and went out to buy groceries.  At least it wasn't raining.

When I stepped out of the International Store an hour later, the rain had arrived.  I hid in my jacket and consoled myself with a samoosa.

Autumn

Some days feel like summer, with bright light and mild temperatures.  Some days are winter, with driving rain and a grim gray sky. 

Autumn is almost overlooked, just measured by the ever increasing amount of leaves on the ground.