A weaving class

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Featured post on IndiBlogger, the biggest community of Indian Bloggers

The mango tree beckons...

The flowers...aplenty.
The leaves...many luxuriant layers.
The stem... solid.

The shade is inviting
and a small someone,
enamoured by such
attractive prospects,
has decided to call it a home.

An ongoing  spinning class
by a master weaver.

Nature's exhibition stall
is up...anytime, anyplace.


Intriguing Bytes

Water weeps...

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A tale begins... The lake drew crowds. Children played under the trees. Birds arrived Nests and fledglings  dotted the scene. The lake fed water to many a locality. Along came drought... The rains went far far away. The lake reduced in size. Filth and sewage crept in. The colour of the water puzzled many. People walked past wrinkling their noses at the smell. The lake  dried up. Trees were felled. The land was barren. Birds gave it a miss. The sand laden trucks took over. The 'premium' land was eyed... Encroachments came up. Huts, buildings, a colony, shops,... Through the windows, the echo of quacking ducks and a shimmering n' placid expanse of water, with a cool breeze blowing in, caressing the cheeks with dots of moisture, went missing. Was there ever a lake? Old-timers nod their heads. Near the window of a tenement, which rests upon a 'once  picturesque' lake bed, sits a big sparkling can of drinking water, delive...
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Those few drops

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The sun wakes up smiling and decides to make its presence felt. The patch of rain clouds spread over the Eastern sky pause awhile. They do not wish to leave. The cool wind blowing, caressing soft cheeks, bringing with it a whiff of shiny drops, dithers... Should it stay or leave? The warm wind, ready and waiting nearby, takes over and just when the sun decides to bring in its strongest rays, the rain clouds rush past in a fit of mischief and let go a few drops, drops that can be counted. Truly, did it rain? Oh yes! It did. Within seconds... the rain clouds vanish and the sun gets extra busy, drying up those few wet dots, showing up, here and there, on the ground and on the soil. The leaves sway gracefully, aglow with the touch of those few refreshing drops, they were fortunate enough to receive and enjoy. Water series:8
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Hear them calling!

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Here they are, the big ones and the small ones, appearing singly or in groups, precursors to dazzling flowers, a kaleidoscopic range of fragile buds... parading their freshness, their eye-catching colours, unique designs, their varied arrangements, plus some mysterious secrets and scents. Do spend a minute to observe them closely, for their transformation may happen tomorrow or the day after.
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One minute reads-9

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Today's diary: Busy ants completing their project: the outline of a tree. Shh! Can you wait? I am not fully awake yet. The sky is a dull grey but I'm having fun peering at it, through chinks in the green canopy.
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Endless chatter

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The conversation went on ... The listener's eyes remained glued to the scene while her mouth moved, as the various parts were pointed out. Adult: Here are the roots. Child: Oooh! Adult: They call it 'the stem'. Child: Aah! So strong. Adult: See the branches spread out. Child:  Ha, ha!  Dancing to the wind. Adult: Touch and feel the leaves. Child: Shh! The ants are playing. Adult: See the baby buds Child: Open, open!  See me. Adult: A happy red flower. Child: Wow! May I touch it? Adult: Someone has seen it first. Child: Hey! I'm willing to share. Nature smiles... as endless tales are spun in its midst.
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Your very own piece of the forest

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The picture on the seed packet aroused interest. The packet was emptied onto a piece of readied Earth and the results were awaited. For a city dweller longing for a glimpse of a forest, the view before me is satisfying. A miniature forest to enjoy on a daily basis...meanwhile, I continue to dream of real forests, tempting/beckoning me with stretches of lush/dense growth, their vast canopy with many a mystery tucked away, a surfeit of green, thanks to raindrops trickling through, satisfying parched inhabitants, arousing the many buds and blossoms into a joyous mood, the tall, sturdy tree trunks, craning their necks and reaching up to tickle the clouds with bright tassels of green, Nature's  velvety soft patchwork quilt below, displaying  endless shades of green, thoughtfully designed  and exhibited by a master creator whose imagination knows no boundaries, and resounding with the diverse music of tiny bugs and their critters....
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My office beckons

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Believe it or not... My day at the office is pretty cool.               No eyes glued to  computers. No deadlines. No brainstorming sessions. No troublesome co workers.             Shh! Just have  to peer here and there for some edible stuff.              
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Nature weaves tales-11

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"My favourite slippers are wet and muddy," grumbles a voice. "Shh! Never mind. Look down carefully. Your tiny seed has finally woken up," soothes another. A tale unfolds... The canvas above has a finished look. Darkness has filled in the gaps. The house turns silent. My eyes gaze outside, though the window mesh, trying to make sense of the blackened mosaic overhead, silent, except for occasional sounds from an almost 'pet-like' frog. Outside, the hot sand, cries, silently, for a long withheld lifeline. My eyes close and images - those bottles of hope - float, gently past, in my dream. Hours slip past... Sudden drum beats of thunder, humming the tune, 'gonna love taking the centre stage...' make tired eyebrows move. My eyes open. Softly descending raindrops, call out to darkness... 'am here to give you company.' Thunder agrees. Lightning follows suit. As dawn enters, the aroma of wet s...
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Quest

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The nectar was missing. The insect cried out to the petals. The crinkled petals gazed forlornly at the stalk. The stalk nudged the friendly  leaves. The leaves poked the strong stem. The stem swayed shaking the tired roots. The roots bulged out of the soil seeking solace...water. Ah, wetness at last! A kindly soul, passing by, sipping from a bottle, sprinkled some water. Water Series: 10
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Nature adds depth

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There is leaf litter strewn all over. The crow doing its morning rounds, has dropped white patches, here and there. The heat and accompanying humidity seem to hang around, refusing to leave. A lone 'attention seeking' crow, high up on its favourite, green swaying ledge, has been repeating its chorus line, almost hitting the half century mark since the first glimpse of dawn but all these grumblings lie forgotten, as I stand and stare from afar, enraptured, at what looks like a piece of coloured, patterned fabric, framed against a green background, adding depth as a glorious morning opens its curtains.
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