Unbeknownst to the weathermen who really don't know the weather gods at all, February Winter had a date.This was supposed to be top secret, but as usual with weather gods who are terrible at keeping secrets, everyone who is anyone caught on quite soon. The wind had guessed right away and even before she got here, it had passed the word on; it gushed amongst trees, pulled at dupattas and nudged ponytails in the hope of catching their owner's attention, rushed through fallen leaves, swirled around bare ankles. Soon the world knew about it and the aroma that only the hope of rain can bring spread through the air like a contagious giggle. Those who had the noses of seafarers sniffed out the news and gasps of hope were uttered and rose to the sky like helium bubbles.
Very soon the sky was beginning to announce her arrival. She was a certain absent minded lady, who smelt of wet earth, with hair that always stayed dry. You see, Miss Monsoon was sought after year after year by every other season there is. Luckily for them, she was a sucker for romance and seldom stayed long. This time February Winter had won her affections and it's not hard to tell that he has been grinning from ear to ear and looking chuffed.
The courtship of the weather gods is always a pretty sight to behold, especially when Miss Monsoon is involved. Happiness sits in the air and in birdsong and the sweet smelling breeze. It is terribly hard to resist being part of it and before long even the surliest of souls will walk with a spring in their step and a silly little smile hovering around their face.
This may last one day or many weeks, depending on Miss Monsoon and her whims. It starts off as a beautiful rain song played by the clouds and the wind and the leaves and the trees and rises to many dark clouded crescendos and periods of complete silence and at the very end, when you catch your breath, it begins to pour.
(Mr. Jukebox sings: The Rain Song by Led Zeppelin)
Very soon the sky was beginning to announce her arrival. She was a certain absent minded lady, who smelt of wet earth, with hair that always stayed dry. You see, Miss Monsoon was sought after year after year by every other season there is. Luckily for them, she was a sucker for romance and seldom stayed long. This time February Winter had won her affections and it's not hard to tell that he has been grinning from ear to ear and looking chuffed.
The courtship of the weather gods is always a pretty sight to behold, especially when Miss Monsoon is involved. Happiness sits in the air and in birdsong and the sweet smelling breeze. It is terribly hard to resist being part of it and before long even the surliest of souls will walk with a spring in their step and a silly little smile hovering around their face.
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| Illustration by Kate Hindley |
(Mr. Jukebox sings: The Rain Song by Led Zeppelin)
