Springtime

The temperature has been getting incrementally warmer as the cloudless days of carême are slowly swept away by the rain storms and heat of hivernage. For some reason though, I was wrapped in a feeling of spring-time today. Perhaps it was the color of daylight; white clouds spread thinly across the sky have been passing over Guadeloupe the entire weekend, softening the usually stark light of a Caribbean sun. It might be an internally-timed recognition of the coming of spring. Though, it was probably sparked by reading a description of the first game day at the new Yankees stadium - a beautiful April day with temperatures nearing 60°F. I was surprised that it was so warm already. I had forgotten it could be warm elsewhere also.

Lolling about on a lazy Sunday morning, the open windows framed a blue sky. I couldn't see the ocean, the palm trees. Just a bit of green from the large breadfruit tree and a blue sky. Funny how a blue sky can resemble another. I was overcome with memories of spring in New York. After so many months of dreary gray cold, the exhilaration of feeling the first breath of warmth, or the unchanging joy of tiny buds of green suddenly unfurling into leaves and flowers.

I miss the seasons; the renewal, the movement, the change. There is no more efficient reminder of death, but no greater reminder of life. Of course, there are seasons here, too. Two as opposed to four. I wonder how many carêmes and hivernages will pass before I learn to love these seasons.

Moonlit Night 2

Daylight is slowly being stretched further into the evening. Two months ago, the moon made its appearance in front of a black night sky. Now, the moon rises against the red wispy clouds of sunset.

Moonlit Night

Have you ever seen the moon rise between two palm trees? Unfortunately, the shot is beyond the abilities of my little Powershot. But the silhouette was crisp and clear and the light was much more golden-colored.

An autumn missed

I love the changing of the seasons. I love the anticipation of autumn, the sober solitude of winter, the relief of spring, and the gratuitousness of summer.

When I worked at the Met, I took the bus only occasionally to save money. I didn't have a regular route; I walked whichever way felt good. Sometimes I walked across town at 98th Street, and then up 5th Avenue. Sometimes up Amsterdam then across town on 86th. If I had time to dawdle, I walked into the park made my way north or south. Working on Sunday morning gave me the park, seemingly in its entirety. I remember walking in the park one Sunday morning after a night snowfall, and before me lay a landscape of untouched snow, and behind me, one single track of footprints. Working on Friday nights, I remember looking at the winter sky through the telescope of a generous star gazer, a perfect sky bordered by the perfect skyline. My fondest memory is walking up 5th avenue one fall morning, and a wind blowing the golden leaves off the trees, the early sunlight seeming to make the matte leaves shimmer.

Here, the seasons are not so generous. There is the wet season (l'hivernage), and the dry season (le carême). The wet season is ending. The skies are being swept clean of their clouds, and the air is cool and dry.

Yesterday, I laid down on the couch and felt that cool dry air blowing on my face. The wind was blowing through the palm trees and I heard rustling. With my eyes closed, I could easily imagine myself back in New York on an autumn morning, walking through the park. All that was missing was the earthy smell of leaves beginning to compost in the dirt. It was bittersweet. On the one hand, it seemed incredible that this island could offer me nostalgia for an autumn in New York. On the other hand, I knew that what I felt was just a fleeting sensation, one that would end as quickly as I can open my eyes.

Still, while Guadeloupe may not be generous in seasons, it is generous in other ways.

Rainbows, not from an oil slick on the pavement, but large, gigantic, stretching across the sky.


Sunrises that burn.


Sunsets that melt like a popsicle across the sky.