This dull morning I stood in my garden, surveying the earth and the sky. Report follows.
After two days of good lashing by the rain, the wind too joined the party last night.
Trees are in a sorry state – the wind has plucked them clean of their foliage. Few tiny but resilient leaves cling for dear life to thin branch endings. One tree in our garden is an exception – all leaves are still intact. Swaying to and fro, it seems to be enjoying the chill. Mom tells me that the tree is called “haar shingar”, meaning to adorn or beautify oneself, which sits pretty well with its current mood.
The sea of clouds is in a hurry. They are moving eastward, and at this speed, they may cross the China border by the evening. Now, that is “news” because usually, China manufactures dark and ominous clouds for its neighbors. But I am getting distracted here – the weather does not bother about politics.
The wind is picking up pace. I am no “haar shingar” – better to get back indoors.
So much for the weather report.
