Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Pains of Autumn*

I don't like fall.

I dislike everything about it: the cold which serves as the introduction for winter, the grey of the sky, the rain.
The instability which floats in the air makes me anxious. The chilly wind makes me nervous and agitated. Watching the nature getting ready to hibernate makes me deeply sad, and seeing the farmers market stands being replaced by the Halloween costumes and the Christmas trees, brings such a deep sorrow to my heart.

Add to all these, the high possibility of catching the cold. The feverish nose-dripping throat-itching body-aching cold, which sucks the life out of you as a deadly hollow.

I was born in spring. I guess to some extent that’s why I absolutely love spring. Since I moved to Canada and I learned how precious the sunlight and the warmth are, I love summer as well. I can still bear winter and its accompanying depression with the hope that the spring is just around the corner. But fall? I’m this close to hating it.

There is only one thing which keeps me from absolutely hating fall: the color of the leaves. The amazing reds and oranges and yellows. The last act of the nature before closing the curtains. The last medley song of the album before the end of record. The last high note of the singer before the end of opera.

That’s the only thing which catches my eyes and asks for my patience for the next spring, since in a couple of weeks the leaves will all die and the trees will be all naked. And then I’ll be longing for the spring again. Alongside the trees.

*The title is borrowed from a movie by the same name.
**The picture was taken in Mont-Tremblant, QC, Canada, last october.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

"All I wanna say is that/ they don't really care about us..."

They came one morning, with their yellow safety hard hats and big boots. The decision was strange, "The soil around this area is contaminated, and has to be replaced."

To our much surprise, the big old trees were all cut. We joked, "Maybe the institute is out of budget and they are going to burn wood this winter to keep us warm!!". Big machines started digging around the building. Serious concerns came up, "If it’s this contaminated, how about us? What are we doing here?". In time intervals of morning to noon, between my changing shoes and going to the lab to coming back for lunch, there was a huge hole by my window. Small and big machines were coming and going and the hole got bigger and bigger. "Maybe we are all contaminated and considered a threat to the city, and they want to bury us all within the institute…Should I check to see if the main doors are locked?". In matter of a couple of days, bigger machines started to fill up the hole.

As funny as it sounds, there were huge holes being dug and filled. Sitting here by the window and analyzing my experiments results, I’m thinking that I’m not worried about the contamination, or the energy sources for this winter, or the building to fall apart. I’m worried about the little groundhog family who lives across the field from my office. They used to come out every day together, picnicking on the grass, chewing on the leaves and the yellow small flowers. And believe me, they were not showing the slightest sign of being contaminated, with their big happy cheeks and round bellies…
I hope they are still there, safe and not panicked. Maybe I should check on them when these machines are all gone.