delhi: a spot of bush

My job takes me mostly to cities, but wherever I am, I want a sense of the natural landscape.  In Delhi without a car, that meant a quick hike on the Delhi ridge, an extension of the Aravalli range that defines the western edge of the city.

It was early March, technically spring in the northern hemisphere, where Delhi technically lies.  A few trees were beginning to leaf out, but most looked like they were dry-deciduous, with no plans to move a muscle until the next raindrop hits in July.  The overall effect was barren --

-- but it meant that small gestures of spring had the force of eruptions --

-- though arresting details were often more autumnal than vernal.

The other dramatic eruption, so abrupt as to seem tedious, was the fierce red-orange blossoming of "flame of the forest" (Butea monosperma).  Wikipedia has a pic, but my photos of it are unpresentable; they all make it look like a tourist attraction. 

What do I mean by that?  These blossoms drew the eye away from their own environment.  I'm more interested in natural forms that draw me the other way. 

Comments

[dale]

That last photo is amazing.

[Teresa Gilman]

You wrote that the orange monosperm blossoms drew your eye away from its environment, that you were more interested in forms that drew you the other way. I'm with you there. I've noticed that nature if left to its own devices has very little red, e.g., in the wild. A little goes a long way, it seems to say. And lots of red all in one place [in a garden perhaps, or a parking lot with a dozen red cars] kind of rips you off. It's noticable but you can't really enjoy it.

One of my favorite times of year here in central New York is late summer/early fall when the wildflowers along the roadsides and train beds are in bloom. I relish the varied and subtle colors and textures, the smells and the effect of gradual drying.

Your description of India's autumnal spring brought this to mind, your wanting to walk out into it. That is basic, isn't it.

And I'm glad you've posted some more about India; I was about to nag you, per your suggestion a few posts back.

Teresa

[Peter]

I really like your text among the photos. It gives just enough insight and guidance to bring us through. I also agree with Teresa: the wildflowers of late summer (I'm in Virginia) are a treat for all of the reasons she gives.

[Jarrett]

Dale. Yes, that photo has haunted me ever since it appeared unexpectedly in my camera; I barely remember taking it. But there it is.

Teresa on red. Yes, exactly. Of course, the land is sometimes red or orange, but these are really shades of brown compared to the panic-red of flowers. (See a current discussion on shades or red triggered by Dale's post of yesterday; click on his name in his comment above.)

Peter. Thanks for the compliment, which raises an interesting conflict. For may own development I'd like to be writing more. But photo-based blogging, like film, tends to need fewer words. I wonder if my reliance on photography is making me a better writer or a lazier one.

[Peter]

Your predicament is similar to that of Jon Miller, whom I listened to for years as the radio Voice of the Orioles. For me, he helped the game fulfill all of the platitudes about baseball existing in the mind and outside of time. Then he joined a TV network and went national, and his broadcasts are nothing like his old Baltimore radio broadcasts. He was made for radio. (Because he left radio, I no longer listen to baseball.) He's doing TV with half his mouth and brain tied behind his back.

Well, not a perfect analogy: I love your photo-based blogging. And you do have occasional, longer posts that push the photos to the corners.

[Jarrett]

Peter. If I thought that writing without photos was as hard as rendering a baseball game with nothing but sound, I'd probably never write another word. Of course, if I thought that reading pure text was as hard as making sense of a baseball game on the radio, I'd probably never pick up a book. So I hope it's an imperfect analogy, and thank you for it. :)

[Teresa Gilman]

Frankly, I LOVE the "...half his mouth and brain tied behind his back" metaphor. And I'm gonna use it next time I go to a meeting of our academic governing body here.

;-)

Teresa