September Sundays

There are days when you wake up with eagerness, then do nothing with it. You sink into the cushy bean bag in the balcony, settle back with your mug of coffee frappe, throw your head up and stare at the freshly washed blue of the skies, sight a single silken thread woven by a decidedly unconventional spider who must have laid aside all notions of the customary splayed cobweb.

Nothingness is delicious. Il dolce far niente.

In a while, after I have had my fill of a botanical book that smells and looks wonderful — apart from filling my head with stories of the lives of plants, of dicotelydons and monocotelydons, of gametophytes, of sporophytes, during the course of which I quietly slip back in time to the early years in school — I start rifling through my cache of freshly gathered leaves.

You see, autumn has tiptoed in.

The air has softened, the sunbeam ripened to golden loveliness that feathers its way through the canopy of trees, the sky a freshly washed shade of blue, and as daylight fades, the sinking of the sun into a riot of flaming oranges and reds above the waters of the bay. The fallen leaves are curling with pleasure and anticipation of the days to come, it seems. Some are green. Others have begun the march towards death. In their brilliant shades of yellows, reds, purple and pinks, mottled with green and brown, they do not look like they belong in the world of the hollow men. They belong in my world of dappled sunshine, of reading books in the park, of swaying lilac weeds and clovers, of clever squirrels who hasten to stow away their booties of nuts before the advent of winter, of the wetlands where the silent evening visitors are the night heron and the blue heron who spend the hours stalking fish.

So to September, with the early bite in the air, I raise my glass of cider.

Published by

Arundhati Basu

The great affair in my life is to travel. I count myself immensely fortunate that my partner shares this passion. We are a team that likes to spend time planning and plotting out places to go. Destination check, flights check, accommodation check, cheesy grins check. Off we go.

38 thoughts on “September Sundays

  1. Very nice and soothing! I enjoyed reading the lovely descriptions of nature getting ready for winter. My September has been filled with a covid funeral, rampant wildfires in both California and Oregon and heartbreaking news of Lex’s senior aunt losing her home of over twenty years to the thoughtless act of a drug addled criminal arsonist. I can’t wait for this year to be over. Honestly. – Neek

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am terribly sorry to hear of these events in your lives, Neek. Covid has been wreaking havoc in my family too. Two of my uncles died in the last few weeks. Lex’s aunt losing her home because of some criminal’s callousness sounds horrid. I hope you are not troubled by the wildfires. Sending you hugs and peace for the coming weeks. Hold on Neek. xx

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thank you! I am so sorry to hear about your uncles. I don’t know anyone who is not affected by this horrible virus. As for Lex’s aunt, she is now staying at his mother’s house and trying to make sense out of all this. She had only five minutes to leave her house and her pajamas to wear. All of her belongings are gone. It’s truly heartbreaking. Lex and I are luckily not in the fire zone but we smell the smoke and the sky has been hazy for a week now. I hope that you and Adi stay safe. Take care – Neek


      2. Thank you, Neek. I appreciate your words. The aunt’s plight sounds so sad. I cannot believe all her gathered memories and possessions gone in one blow. I am glad she is safe though and maybe that is a mercy. Whatever good one can forage from any situation.

        Good to know that you both are not in the fire zones. It must be so disturbing, the aur quality being affected over a prolonged period of time. I am praying you get a good spell of rain.

        You guys take care. โค

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Hi Caroline, thank you for your words. I am so sorry to learn about the smoke from the fires that has surely disturbed lives even more than the prevalent virus situation. Would you believe that it has travelled to the East Coast though the air quality remains unaffected because it is high above us. Anyway, I hope you are staying indoors till this tides. xx

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Our languid September days have been smothered in smoke for days! We’ve been homebound for over a week due to the relentless fires burning in California/Oregon and Washington…we’ve woken to a red sun this week and this morning our air quality is the worst in the world.
    Your lovely post has me dreaming of autumn pleasures…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am so sorry to hear of this Kim. It is horrible to be stuck inside with the turn in the weather. But I am hoping the rains would have eased it up a bit. It has been sobering to watch the spread of the wildfire and a bit of the haze even hung here for a few days, but really high in the atmosphere so air quality was not affected.

      Better days, of fresh air and autumnal glory, is around the corner love. xx

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It rained this morning (clearing some of that smoke away) and it was a joy to open our windows again…I just came in from a walk touched by autumn and I can hardly wait to enjoy that glory over the next few months!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Yippee! That sounds invigorating. How we appreciate the importance of the basic necessities of life after a spell of calamities! More of these rambles in the coming weeks to make up for lost time. ๐Ÿ˜‡

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Gorgeous prose! Weโ€™re still some way off autumn and never quite embrace fall colours in the same way as the east coast largely because of all the evergreens. I am looking forward to the fall in temperatures, donning my 3/4 length bib shorts and cycling more than in summer. Hope youโ€™re both well and the garden is still bearing produce.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Merci beaucoup. ๐Ÿ™‚ I envy you the evergreens. Their dark beauty is most soothing. At the same time I am in utterly in love with the colours of the season. Today being the autumnal equinox, we are officially in the throes of autumn. Hurrah to everything that the season brings, including bib shorts and hours of cycling.

      The tomatoes are slowing down now, but I would give them a month more. The rest are thriving. The fern has grown taller and looks more beauteous by the day. ๐Ÿ˜€ Hope your geraniums and co. are doing well. Love and hugs.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Brianji! Namaste. I have not been to the natural history museum in Paris, no. But from the joy I felt from roaming rhe corridors of its counterparts in London and then NYC, I can only imagine the treasures it holds. I shall drop in on our next visit to Paris, on your recommendation.

      All is well. Been tying up a project and then working on art, so time flies. How are you? Been too long that I have been to your blog. Gotta rectify that. ๐Ÿ™‚


      1. Hello ma’amji. You won’t regret your visit. Once air travel will be safe again. You normally go back home at Xmas, right? Have you made any plans? Not very “good” right now… I do miss Paris. This will be the first year I don’t go back even once in… 20-30 years?
        What art are you working on? Pray tell.
        Don’t worry. I haven’t visited you much. Lockdown seems to pump time away. Weird.
        Stay safe.
        Phir milenge.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I know I won’t. Full faith in your reco.

        We do try and go back at the end of the year, but this year no show. First and foremost, the distance would be too much for me to travel with the tension of coronavirus on the mind. One can never be too careful. Paris and Calcutta will be there. You can plan a nice long trip next year? ๐Ÿ™‚

        I am working on some charcoal drawings and watercolours of lighthouses, Brianji. And you capture it in a few words. The pumping of the hours. Phir milenge. Have a great rest of your Sunday.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. It’s not worth spending hours and hours in a plane full of people whose past whereabouts for the past fortnight you don’t know about. (And who might actually have voted Republican God forbid).
        I’m sure you and your parents will be saddened, but it’s safer that way.
        I hope we can fly safely to Paris next summer. We’ll see what the big wheel brings us…
        Charcoal and watercolours now? look so forward to it… Just finished two watercolours for Halloween for our grandson, have a third penciled, just need to paint… ๐ŸŽจ Such a mind-resting activity isn’t it? Compliments.
        Phir milenge ma’amji.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. It is Brianji. The hours gather wings! Would love to see your watercolours. Your grandson should surely be thrilled to receive such a lovely gift. Mind-resting it is indeed. A halo of happiness.

        As for flying, count me out till it is completely safe. One has to be practical. To wait is wise indeed. ๐Ÿ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

      1. Being confined to your own city can make it difficult to write a travel blog. However, I’ve recently come up with a Roald Dahl themed effort which was fun doing. We’re all fine thanks.

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s