Summer is truly here. The silk cotton trees (simili gocho) have lost their big fleshy pink flowers and found new tender bright green leaves. The mahua trees give off a heady and intoxicatingly sweet scent and drop carpets of yellow under them.

(photo credits to fellow wordpress bloggers: Mahua and Silk Cotton)

There are shades of fresh green and brilliant reds on the mango trees, with showers of white flowers poking through the curtains of colour. The streams are drying up to a trickle in the heat. The sun’s ray turn harsh after dawn.
Seasons are fascinating things. They creep up on you, and before you know it, bang! You’re in the middle of the next one. The cold cold nights of winter are forgotten. Evenings of cuddling up to the choola for warmth. Bundling up in shawls, hats and socks are a thing of the past. Blankets are washed and put away. Forgotten till the next time the right season swings by.
Each has its own particular characteristics. And of course, the in-between oddities. We have those going on right now – april showers (or mango showers as they’re also called here). Sudden thunder rumbling in the distance after lunch time. Dark clouds rushing down from the hills, strong winds sweeping through the trees. The raindrops are large, and turned out to be hail stones! The respite from the heat is as welcome as the hot tea we sip, watching the rain.
Seasons seem to be able read my mind. Just as I’m getting fed up of one (Is the rain ever going to stop before we get flooded out?), the next one starts. (Doesn’t the parched earth need a little more than dew?) and the april showers hit! It would be nice if people could be as perceptive as the seasons.

My westernised up bringing taught me the usual 4 suspects – spring, summer, autumn and winter. The closest we ever got to autumn was summer! Forget about snow and sleet. Spring and summer merged into one and how on earth could they have missed out the monsoon season?

(photo credits: 4 Seasons and Vivaldi?!)

Fortunately, we’re finally coming to our senses and getting our kids to look at our own seasons, and not those of someone elses climatic zone. The kids in class 3 at MrsK informed confidently that there are SIX seasons. At their request, I attempted to translate them into English, and gave up pretty soon. I should to teach them a great song I learned from T in Gudalur

Santa’s using zebras now
to pull his Christmas sleigh
’cause a boy in Africa
wrote to him one day.
“Santa please stop by,” he said,
“and bring some toys with you.”
Santa’s using zebras now
south of Timbuktu.

Donner, Blitzen, all the reindeer

Santa's Zebra

Santa’s Zebra

put him on the spot –
they were used to ice and snow
but Africa was hot!
Then some zebras came along
and they pulled Santa through.
Santa’s using zebras now
south of Timbuktu.

See the pyramids go by
and there’s the Nile below.
Watch out for that tall giraffe;
mustn’t fly too low.
Hello hippopotamus
the season’s joy to you!
Hello Mr. Crocodile
merry Christmas too!

As they gallop over jungles
lions stop and stare,
wonderin’ what those zebras could be
doing way up there.
While the reindeer wait for him
back home in their igloo,
Santa’s using zebras now
south of Timbuktu.

I wonder how many seasons they have in Morocco or Botswana. But that’s for another day. Now, I’m just enjoying the cool-th (as M would say) and shall leave learning the names of the six seasons for another, and perhaps hotter day!

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