January 22, 2012, 23:30
Music: How to name it? by Ilaiyaraaja
Mood: Happy
Weather: Somewhat Cold (-7°C)
‘Do you hear the snow against the window-panes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow LOVES the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.” And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green, and dance about—whenever the wind blows—oh, that’s very pretty!’ cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap her hands. ‘And I do so WISH it was true! I’m sure the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown.’
Through the Looking Glass, Lewis Carroll
I sit in my chair staring out of the window like a small child stares out of a railway car window: open-mouthed and utterly fascinated. Soft white balls twirl and pirouette gently into the loving embrace of the alabaster earth. No matter how many times this scene repeats itself in what is virtually a theater of dreams, there is at least one member of the audience who is perennially enchanted: me. The snowing stops after a while, but the snow is permanent now. And the world is a pure whiteness that has spread itself everywhere, on trees, on plants, on roads, on cars, on flowers. On life itself.
Snow-covered bush
With a start, I realize that I have not seen the sun for almost three weeks now, and even that last glimpse was just that, a glimpse. Of a hazy circle low in the horizon where it had reached after making a painful groaning path not unlike the gentle arc of a rainbow. The ball of fire had seemed a pale shadow of its tropical counterpart, a poor imitation silver coin that barely glowed much less blazed, a sickly sniffly imposter, a dying ember, a lifeless and useless piece of nothingness. One almost felt sorry for it and hoped its next appearance would not be so slovenly and miserable.
Nevertheless, the world—now awash with the snowy whiteness of winter—was brighter than what it had been in those dull and grey November days, probably because snow reflects daylight and also enlivens the heart. The coming of permanent snow was extremely cheering also because there is a strangely attractive quality about layers and layers of pure whiteness in which you can step, jump, fall, or even take baths (at a party, one of the games had involved finding people who had taken “snow baths”. But it was a simple task: I had simply caught hold of the nearest Finn!). Since this is Finland, a streak of amusing oddity is always in the air, as evidenced by my Finnish neighbor’s experience:
There’s no place like home. At least if it’s Lappeenranta, Finland.
Me just walking home, when a completely naked guy runs from the door of my apartment building and to his car. “Did you make a bet or something?” “Nah I’m just getting my phone.” I should also probably mention that there’s snow to the knee.
(to be continued…!)
Lappeenranta Sojourn 