..All over the world tonight, all over the world. You can hear the sound of lovers falling in love..” sang Karen Carpenter. Oh, how we all loved The Carpenters in the days of my youth!
But this is not the hush I had in mind, when I started to write this, the words of this song just came on as my Autonomic Nervous System just kicked in.
The Hush I had in mind, was the hush of my surroundings on the drive home last evening from Waitrose in Daventry. The sun sets around 3:52 pm, so dusk falls around 3:30pm. The trees stood bare and their skeletal canopies against a grey sky devoid of clouds had a certain restfulness about the whole landscape. Yet so deceptive, not a cloud to be seen because it was overcast with a tightly melded cloudscape that asserted an early close to the day. I did not know if the trees were resting or they were cold. All I knew was that they were very brave.
And my heart aches for them, I don’t know why. It’s not as if they grow old and die, they resurrect every spring. Is that the message for us humans? About resurrection, rebuilding and regeneration? About..what exactly? I’m sure there’s the science, but then what about our emotional and genetic connectivity with everything in the Universe? They’re a part of us and we both are of the Earth, and also of the stars and the wind and the rivers and the oceans and the clouds and the mountains the cloud breeze through?
I very much wonder why God forgot to create a plan where these dear beloved trees could be naturally ‘clothed’ in some kind of blanket that Mother Nature would weave around them in winter, at least just for the coldest nights and days of the season.
Came home and wrote a long soliloquy about them in my paper journal notebook. What had triggered the empathic outpouring was the sight of nests starkly visible, the twigs firmly holding together in the leafless dry branches high up on the trees. These must have been the childhood homes of someone, I had thought, thinking of the baby birds. This was the trigger thought. Someone’s childhood homes, these nests. Do they, the baby birds raised herein, come back with their partners or their babies and show them where their childhood stomping grounds were?
Perhaps one of these nests was built by a bird raised in and around this area, perhaps even on the tree next ‘door?’ My other thought was as parents, when we become parents, something kicks in and the responsibility teaches the bird parents to build architecturally robust dwellings for one’s off spring. So robust that in the middle of winter, they still stand strong, surviving the summer rain and autumn and winter winds. Come spring, and the circle of breeding and new life stars again in the avian world.
Not us humans though, seldom do we follow the laws of Nature, especially not in this century. I think that’s why the routine of the seasons has not changed. God knew we would eat the forbidden apple, and lose our senses, so the make-up of winter is such that the needful is achieved by design.
Anyway, I wrote all about the story of the birds and the tres and the uncanny connections we do not think about as zombie like we traverse through this life. There is certainly something about the winter that invites us to retreat, so I do see the point of it. Also, winter is the bait for the Aurora, which likes cold and dark wintery nights, in the extreme latitudes.
The Aurora have so far eluded me, as we have chased after them in the Shetlands and in Sweden, they have played catch (a glimpse of) me if you can and won against me every time. Knowing how much I’ve longed to be with them, in awe and praise. We’ve driven through the forests to climb up a hill in the dead of night near Ronninge, around Aberdeen (where they showed up soon after we sailed for the Shetlands) and all over the Shetlands and they’ve managed to elude us with the help of rain, wind and cloud cover. Strategic alliances.
Three weeks in Sweden and not much luck- except once from the windows of our Airbnb high on a cliff, I could see them through the camera. Ditto in Shetland.
Well, so be it for now, but some day..perhaps next year. Meanwhile, I’m embracing the quiet time of hibernation, below ground for the bulbous flowers, the alliums and the potatoes and above ground for the bears and whatever else takes the time off to replenish their reserves, or just rest while God’s plan and Nature’s Will work in harmony to prepare us when they present the bounties that Spring ushers in and Summer squanders for our benefit.
I’m thinking of the apple trees, pear trees, blackberry brambles, flowers and long days of glorious sunshine and gluttonous pleasures. I think I’m not in a rush, not at all. Winter, thank you for your long nights of cosy rest, thank you for the opportunity for reflection, and for the internal resonance that can be orchestrated only by the Divine’s imposition of external forces perfectly placed to ensure the world is ready to participate in and partake of the bounty that awaits.
With the Solstice, the countdown has just begun. And happily, I surrender to thee my Lord, my masters and my teachers and celebrate in gratitude those that came before me and those who are with me as I have traversed far and found home wherever this world has embraced me. Thank you, Universe.
Veenu Banga
December 22, 2025
10:55 pm
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