It was a balmy afternoon.
The sky was a vibrant washed-out blue. White balls of cotton floated lazily about in the sea of intense-ness. Some coagulated greyly, ponderous with moisture. It had rained all morning. The steam rose in warm wafts from the warm earth under my feet. Somewhere, far off, it was still raining. The air was resplendent with the aroma of those slaked lands.
The garden was flamboyantly green in the waning, refracted sunlight. The carpet glass really was picking up it’s feet after a dank, chilly winter. The roses were bursting forth in an unrestrained riot of spirits. The wild roses- delicate, fragile bunches of deep pinkness- could made your head swim with their heady aroma. The marigolds were on their last leg; the dahlias almost gone.
It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
I breathed in the garden, feeling blessedness condensing in moist droplets deep in my consciousness. How did I get so lucky, I thought for the umpteenth time. Time sidled by, drop by deliberate drop. Oh, the delicious laziness!
The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.
My roving eye wandered over the stunted jasmine bushes alternating with the roses. The jasmine is flowering, I noted happily.
I blinked in surprise. How could the jasmine be flowering already?! It seemed barely a few weeks when the last jasmine season waned. And it was here again! How was such a thing even possible?! Had one year gone by already?! When did that happen? I looked around involuntarily, expecting to find the elusive year slipping away surreptitiously.
Those who make the worst use of their time are the first to complain of its brevity.
~ Jean de La Bruyère
An uneasy agitation ruffled my inner placidity rudely. One year over already?- I asked myself incredulously. Surely there is some mistake! One year couldn’t have gone by so quickly. You’re being idiotic, I told myself sternly.
It wasn’t merely a question of the jasmine flowering. The question was- what did I do from the time it flowered last to its new flowering again?
Which year was this?- I asked the fleecy balls of white in the sky. You are the time keepers, aren’t you? How can a year have gone by? Why, just a while ago we enjoyed the season’s first mangoes!It isn’t yet the mango season yet; how can the jasmine start to flower? Does jasmine flower twice a year nowadays?!
Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have, to measure time.
~ Jorge Luis Borges
As if on cue, I heard a fruit-seller called out, “Mangoes! Sweet mangoes! Season’s first mangoes!”
Oh, perfect! Just what I needed!