Seasonal Sensations, Associations, Recollections.

I wake up to the sound of splattering raindrops. The skies have finally unleashed their pent up sorrows on an earth that is parched and eager to drink up every drop that touches its dusty surface. It is dark everywhere and I hear the deep rumble of restful breathing. I step out of bed and feel my way to the nearest window. Lifting up a curtain, I wrap it around me and create for myself a colored, cottony cocoon. Warm and sheltered, I stare outside and allow myself to drink in the indescribable beauty of the first rains.

It hits me almost instantly as I stick my face outside the make-shift cloth cocoon; the calming, earthy scent of the dampening earth. A balm to the restless mind, I draw in a deep breath and suck in as much of the cool, scented air, as I can. In seconds, my senses are engulfed in that aroma which transports me back in time, back to when I’m a little girl in my grandmother’s house. The memories begin to rush in. I close my eyes and let the montage of happy images take over.

My cousins and I are splashing around in muddy puddles, we are marveling over slithering earthworms and slimy snails. We are running, fast and free on a slippery road, chasing after creatures that have crawled out of their homes due to the wetness of the first rains. Everything excites us, even drooping flowers and dirty pebbles. We are laughing, heartily, with all the carefree innocence of childhood. We are drenched to the bone, but the wetness and cold leaves our happy spirits untouched.

I open my eyes and I am back in my 22 year-old body and curtain-cocoon. The rush of images, their accuracy and life-like quality leave me startled and happy. It feels as though I had really soared through time, back to that exact road outside my grandmother’s house.

As I resume marveling at the beautiful first rains, I find myself pondering over the power seasons have over the senses and the associations and recollections they bring to life. It’s funny how they evoke memories that have stayed hidden and untraceable for years. And then you encounter that one sight, that one smell or sensation that brings it all back. Sometimes it’s the chill of a wintry morning that reminds you of huddled walks to school, or a shimmering lake under a summery sun that reminds you of your first trip to the sea shore, or a bleak rainy morning that makes you feel exactly as you did, years back, as you sat through a boring lecture in your college days. The recollections are endless.

I've often heard people say they have a favorite season. Some love the rains, some love the way they feel on misty, wintry mornings and I've wondered, what makes them pick a favorite. Is it the weather, is it nature’s beauty? Maybe. Or maybe it’s the host of special memories from their own beautiful pasts.