Thursday, June 30, 2016

In praise of the hills

Living in a city that is lined by hills that you see anywhere you go, it is natural to come to think of them as home. It was brought home to me when, a few months into this country, we were driving back from San Francisco, and the moment these hills came into view, even though we were miles away from home, I felt, "We're home." And it was then that I realized how much these hills have become  a part of me -- one of those things I know I'll miss when we leave.

For most of the year, these hills are full of grass that is yellow or brown or golden depending on the season or the time of the day. They wave in the breeze, and the hills look stunning against the bright blue sky.

But come winter, and the hills start turning green. It is a hazy green at first, something like moss on the ground just after a rain.

And then they become rich green, a verdant, pure colour that makes the heart skip a beat. So beautiful that sometimes I cannot trust myself to drive on the freeway that meanders through these hills. So beautiful, that several times, I have asked S to just take the car and drive a couple of miles on the freeway just so that I can sit in the passenger seat and look at the hills and absorb as much of the beauty as I can without having to worry about changing lanes or bother about speed limits.

And just as you think it cannot get any more beautiful, winter comes to an end, the rains cease, and the hills start looking like clothes that have been out in the sun too long. They fade, ever so slightly at first, making you wonder if your eyes are just playing tricks on you. And as the jackets and woollen socks come off, and your clothes get lighter, the hills become lighter, but they make up by pushing up thousands of wild flowers of various hues.

And then, before you know it, the sun bleaches the grass and you are left with shades of yellow, green and brown.

But you know that it is just a matter of days before it is gone and the long months of dry brown and yellow grass is back.

And you look back with fondness at that dark green of winter and wonder how you will get through the dreary summer months of beige, and yet, when the hills are yellow and brown again, the waves of yellow grass rippling in the wind make your heart lighter again, and you think -- I'll be just fine.


Maha said...

Hi, I enjoy your writings, have been following you for sometime although I don't comment here often. I love hills/mountains too, and one of my favorite places is Salt Lake City - wherever you are, you are surrounded by hills. I visited my brother in April when it was spring weather - nice crisp air, chilly but not cold. All around you there are snow capped mountains... you are literally surrounded by mountains. I would just sit in the parking lot, and stare at those tall mountains. Even as time gallops away, it feels like it stands still when you are in the company of nature.

Madhuri said...

Nice article... Thanks for sharing !!!

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