The magnificent night descends into the distant
hills as the thinking crickets sing their last song before their cold sleep,
the trapped sun judging their thoughtful fate through the small cracks in the
pearl-white sky. The pale-yellow grass is now coloured with cold, the shivering
trees freezing in the sunlight, faking the holy heat. The far forests of high
pines look like a dreamy mirage from my steamed windows, driver-less tractors
still working the dark brown ground, without a sole purpose.
The
colour-less flowers cry slowly and silently, the oaks fallen behind the storms
on the dead ground, beating an imaginary drum across the lands, calling the
arctic weather to join this unholy ritual. Its footsteps can be heard, stomping
heavily on the weeds, like the avatar of a god, a mad giant, sad, mute, angry
and grumpy.
It all looks
like the deserted time before winter, like the kids falling asleep, waiting for
Santa Claus. If you ask me, it’s all nature’s magic, pure and happy, but also,
sometimes, surprisingly evil, just like childhood.
As I’m writing this, the sky cracks with horror,
the worst spying for the perfect moment, but it gets scared away, as heaven’s
angels spew through the cracks, bringing presents to everybody who’s watching
them. They fly on the winds, surfing through the clouds, snow falling slowly in
their wake, nature bleaching behind them, the animals hiding in the ground,
watching the beautiful show. It is, truly, a beautiful show, mesmerizing
everybody who is watching it.
The sky now holds a more happy theme, with a
nicer white made out of all the snow in the world. The mad giant is now seen as
a more happy, dynamic and sociable Gulliver, tending to the animals with
nightmares, calming them to sweet sleep, shaking hands with the awoken
residents of the forests, singing a song about New Year’s Eve. The flowers are
all fabulous, shining in the now full sunlight, like Hollywood actresses. The
grass and tress all get nicer, hotter clothing with which they can now live
happily in balance with winter. It’s all
nature’s magic, pure and happy. The crickets, ants, bees and all the bugs and
small animals are toasting, eating at a long table made all out of nature’s
delicious goods, the birds sending holiday cards from the hot lands, the
pyramids, Aztec temples and ancient churches, all staying on them.
And, as the mysterious night slowly rises again,
all the plants, animals and angels gather in a single forest to celebrate the
winter’s arrival. And as all of the invited crowd gets drunk with happiness,
magic rises behind the mountains, a trail of white racing in its wake, shining
the sky and moon with stars of gold, the midnight-blue of the night looking
nicer than ever. And as that magic takes an earthly form, the crowd gasps with
surprise as it’s created out of nature, with a body of snow, clothes of golden
leaves and eyes of dark blue water, Miss Winter itself!
