rains

The monsoon season was such a welcome change from Doha's May and June heat. Can't even express how much I enjoyed basking in a landscape like this, and watching people plow with oxen.
Look how wet! See the waterfalls?

So very wet, and raining enough that everyone is wearing raingear to work the fields. In this part of Maharashtra, village rain gear means a large plastic bag, slit open along one side, so that the peak forms a hood and one's back is covered. They're really for sale in the market, just like that. Rows of brightly colored plastic-coated people plucked and re-planted these fields with remarkable efficiency, working all day long in the squelching mud.
Sometimes a small herd of buffalo sauntered through the oversaturated green, like the very definition of languid. (I did not get a picture of the buffalo - just imagine them, black and shiny, slow and calm, snouts lifted in lazy inquiry.)
It seemed to rain particularly hard on our days of travel, and I discovered a new genre: through-the-wet-window photos . Way fun.

A measure of equanimity

I had been thinking, quite a bit, about how much of "my life" seemed contained in my laptop, and how that didn't feel right. Wanting to clean up, clear out, slow down, reduce. Making plans and resolutions.

Then I came home and after one day of use, my hard drive crashed. All gone.
So I've been doing other things.


Spending time with the phang and soft grey Romney, which I may not have taken the time to appreciate otherwise.