Backtracking...we were watching this documentary and it was set, like I said, in one of those places where they actually get Four Seasons. And I am an autumn lover (though I profess to love all seasons - cold, hot, windy, rainy, I don't care. Seasonality is romantic, no matter where you are!), so I was extremely taken with how pretty the deciduous trees looked with their changing leaves, brilliant in color and contrasting against a bright blue sky. How enchanting the trees looked scattered all over the rich verdant farmland, the beautiful green fields sopping wet from the rain the evening before.
Taken, as I said, by this little snippet of a scene, I turned to Aaron..."Do you ever miss that we never get Four Seasons?"
I don't remember what his reply was, but I know we are both content to live and settle in Central California. Both of us are West Coast-ers at heart so we've experienced more temperate seasonal changes and are "okay" with this different type of weather. We are learning to cope with the warmer summer weather and the fact that up until two weeks ago, temperatures were still in the upper 90s.
I've always said that I love to travel. I never realized why until this year. I happen to be a creature who is very sensitive to my environment, my place, the landscape of my life. I enjoy experiencing Weather and Seasons in Other Places. Why? It's romantic, it's the essence of life! I've been all over, many places, but what do I recall this instance? One memory comes to mind:
Summer in Mexico City and surrounding environs:
Summer in Mexico is rainy. Except the rain falls ever so conveniently, in the late afternoon and into the evening. I remember knowing and feeling this distinctly, my first evening in the impressive capital city. My classmates and I had arrived, were tired, and were weary of being shuffled from airport to plane to airport to taxi, to hotel, to bus, and on and on. We finished our evening meal at Sanborns. As we walked the few blocks back to our temporary abode, the rain began. Sprinkling at first and then an almost torrential downpour. I loved it, how intoxicating. But then again, being a Pacific Northwesterner to the bone, I think I can boast that I am accustomed to Rain.
Simply, I was enchanted. And as I returned to my room, I heard a band begin to play and a singer sing, a beautiful Spanish melody. The band was playing in the rain, sheltered by a gazebo so perfectly situated across the street in the zocalo, the town square, where every late afternoon, residents meet to see and be seen, to enjoy the gardens, to socialize. The band was playing and I was listening and the rain kept pouring. I pushed open the old creaking shuttered windows and watched and listened as the sounds of rain and that beautiful rich melody seeped into my room and into my consciousness, to be a forever memory. This was my first evening in Mexico in the Summer of 2004.
Fall finally came to us these last few weeks. Grapes have been harvested, leaves are turning colors. Halloween is on the brain. The rains are returning and Aaron and I have a fire most evenings now. I must move along from this writing and say goodbye for today. But today is an example of a time when my happiness can actually be attributed to a source - and it really is that there is so much beauty and poetry in nature, that what else do we need? I learned this from a lovely artist lady back in Washington. Does she even know who she is?
Goodbye for now!
Rachel Turner
Adventurer, Explorer and part-time Doodler.
