French lavender. Annecy, France
It was a daydream. It catapulted me into this piece because of a rather unexpectedly poor and cold weather. Having a deep connection with the nature I am enchanted by the seasons that unveil the nature’s beauty.
So, I was imagining a permanent year morphing all four seasons into each other.
What if, the purple lavender of the summer in Provence seamlessly shared the colors and the scent of the purple autumn bell heathers in Hampshire’s heathlands in England. Being born in the month of September, it’s the heathers that attract my sensory pleasure.
Then, my daydream morphs seamlessly the colors of the golden autumn in Poland, Canada and New England, giving themselves up for the wintery whiteness and abundance of snow in front of our house in Laurel, Maryland. Grazyna would then permanently enjoy frolicking in it and giggling like a small girl. She would wave her arms creating an angel imprint in a snow mountain on a day when the hazard of driving would keep her away from … school.
Soon the snow would join the warming sunrays of spring, with an array of green hope covering the flora.
Such daydreaming is a reaction to what one experiences in a loss of what once was predictable, the golden yesteryear. Now, there remains the predictability of the effects of global warming, and with it the decaying nature and beauty of our Mother Earth.
In A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway describes sadness “of losing a season out of your life” when unseasonal changes in the weather destroyed the expected warmth of the coming spring. “When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally; but it was frightening that it had nearly failed,” he wrote about his Paris days in the 1920s.
As I recall what it was like in the “good old days” of my distant past, gone are the farmers gazing at an evening sky and knowing for certain what would come in the morning.
What seems to be left now is a daydream.
What followed one night was a dream. While I daydream in full color, my night dreams are checkered with some color, but all too often with black-and-white scenes -these scary nightmares with vivid experiences of fear. I seem to be usually running, escaping, in those bouts of night-imagination.
That night, what I saw were the images of heaven. The images were definitely inspired by the imagination evoked when reading Scriptural narratives. Whether I was there, or not I cannot tell for certain. What I saw there etched itself in a memory and recalled later again and again.
People were walking on the heavenly boulevards. It seemed like an uncounted multitude of them. All was bathed in sunshine forming a display of a palette of rainbow colors.
On closer scrutiny, I recognized some faces. Ha, I heard myself utter, did they deserve to be there? I would not have expected to see some of them enjoying the celestial bliss. Oh, really?
When I woke up, it was obvious that hardly anything is as simple and true in life as one assumes and is convinced about it.
Whether you dream at night or daydream in the afternoon about a better reality, all you can do is look after your own rights or wrongs.
The rest – actually everything - belongs to the Life Giver.
Human palette of rainbow colors. Chirala, India