Fall again, and a paean to Champaign

Did I say I love fall? Sure, I did! what's not to love about this enchanting drama queen! No tantrums, just a dazzling display from a colorful diva! Her flying, flitting shining leaves shake as she twirls in her jewel toned sequin-layered skirt, not caring if some frills and sequins fall, at times with a dramatic sigh. There are the heaps of fallen leaves, like multi-colored candy wrappers, like crunchy pappadams, or crab rangoons.  and in between there are a few green leaved trees - stubbornly resisting- to- turn old timers -- and then  those wall flower types who wish they would turn like the others,( I am sure!) Every year, fall, to me, is a carnival.

This year's fall is extra special. I am in a new city. So it's a city Fall. And neither the city nor the season have disappointed me yet. Champaign is made for this season! Its paved streets dotted with old world lamps  are a good setting for these painted ladies and gents to make a spectacle of themselves! This city has parks ( I haven't seen this many squirrels anywhere!) on most streets, sidewalks in all parts, it has little lakes that soothe you, and old homes that evoke old memories. The little town is eminently walkable and the little shops and cafes, endearing. I loved its little Oktoberfest, with its Apple Saison beer that tasted like Fall, as much as like apple pie. And the farmer's market that introduced me to Autumn Berry jams and relishes that reminded me of those good old days back home, back when I was a child.

 And then there is the University with its libraries and stadiums and theaters. I feel I have come off my (self-imposed, I guess) exile into a new world!
As I walk beneath these trees flamboyant in their drool-worthy candy leaves, as usual, I long to absorb it all. As the cozy cool wind and the equally cozy but warm sun hit the leaves, and then touch me, I am so happy that I can almost taste the sensual feast!

the falls of the season

sky is falling! hennypenny

This fall has been a season of falls from grace, for some great people. Lance Armstrong, Petraeus, now Gen John Allen... . As the astrologers would point out, Saturn's move into Scorpio was an indicator that such things would happen. And it has just started.

I am not saying that that means the sky is falling. far from it. All this have always been there, will always be. Talking of skies and falls, saw the newest James Bond movie. I know everyone is enamoured of it. skyhigh praises for the best Bond ever and all that. I admit it is an eminently watchable film. Like, as I have said before elsewhere, (I am sure you all are keeping track of what I say or not say, that you have nothing else to do ) a Jason Bourne movie -- almost. And more recently, a Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson -- Taken 2) movie.

deja vu -- to see the rooftops of Istanbul ( I believe) as the stomping grounds of both Bond and Mills.
to see the ruins of the island where the supervillain is -- didn't I see that in Stallone's Expendables? M and the Scottish gamekeeper -- was that Dame Judi Dench as Mrs Brown? Which is right for this season's theme of the falls-- the fall of a Queen. M, that is.

For me, and for many I know, Bond movies are great for their grand locations, outdoors, indoors, beautiful women, and of course the handsome and debonair Mr Bond. Nowadays other movies do that too -- so what is the difference? it's like been there, done that. There is not much of a difference, except that idea that this was once upon a time Bond. Like when I heard that familiar music -- when the old Bond car is revealed. The fascination for the Bond movies rose also from the quaint "Britishness" of the main characters. Their customs, their attitudes, their behavior, and the accent of course. There is a romance about all that, rightly or not, in spite of it all or not. Like a Poirot or Miss Marple movie. Or a Jeeves and Wooster gig. Like the English countryside. lLike high tea. All those are nice to look at, and eat in the last case. I read about the success of the British TV dramas like Upstairs, Downstairs, and recently, of Downton Abbey in the US. It is this same fascination. They are not that different from any other soap operas. It is the setting, the ambience, the whole baggage/package of Britishness. The old colonial power -- the greatness, the extent, the influence, the ubiquitous nature of the language. So in spite of our present day knowledge of the real effects of colonialism, we like to gaze upon its perpetrators' idealized vision of themselves,   idealize it ourselves to some extent, be nostalgic about it, aspire to it, maybe. Because of it, in spite of it. It is in the collective memory of a lot of people, for better or worse, so to speak. What I am trying to say is that James Bond is a British institution. a symbol. an ideal of Britishism, Britishness -- or the ideal idea of what it is in peoples' minds. As it is, Bryan Mills is a secret agent who has a personal agenda, and James Bond is a secret agent with a not-so-personal agenda, trying to defeat vengeful villains, like many other heroes.

One of the reasons for the coziness of the whole Bondwatching experience was the fact that Bond was killing off unmitigated villains. M is in his/her heaven and all's well with the world -- something like that. Now it seems the villain is M. And the other villain, Silva has a sad past -- he is an alter ego of Bond. Like many rogues, he is created by the supposedly good-intentioned.  Not difficult to understand in the postmodern, postcolonial world.

The new supposedly grittier, craggier ( ;) ) version of  Bond  is probably in sync with the new world, but I miss the old suave, stiff upper-lipped Bond with that cynical smile. The modern Bond for me would be that portrayed by Pierce Brosnan. He is the old Bond, in a new setting. He is aware of his dinosaur status, as M makes it  a point to tell him. Still, he acts the part. The show goes on -- a witty tongue-in-cheek interpretation. let me hasten to say that I love them all. all the Bonds, I mean.

Now for the Bond girls -- I keep hearing that the new Bond girls are women of substance -- well, more than the earlier ones. I beg to differ. Apart from Michelle Yeoh, ( memorably in a Pierce Brosnan movie)  I do not remember anyone as being that substantial. In fact, the earlier Bond women had a majesty, a presence that is lacking in the newer ones. Anyway who am I to say? What do I know?

When I was watching Bond and the bad guy on the roof tops, I couldn't help wishing that they would stop and decide to just run and jump around for fun. both say " oh forget it! and hold hands and dance. but that would be a spoof. which is not new either.

and -- whatever happened to Ralph Fiennes?  a great (and handsome) actor, and he gets these just-hangin'-around kind of roles. oh, they gave him a gun to wave about towards the end, but his talent is wasted  here. He is hero material. remember the Constant Gardener?  again, the actors I like seem to languish. maybe I am wrong. I like Heather Graham, Winona Ryder, I liked Lindsay Lohan. Leonardo di Caprio is another talented actor. He gets the roles and he does them exceptionally well, but the awards committee seem not to notice. anyway.

making sense of fall



Vermont Autumn by Vicky Brago-Mitchell

I am talking seasons here. I don't much like the other kinds of falls -- falling down, falling in love and such. Neither do I like falling skies, but I do admire a waterfall. And I feel for the fallen angel, the fallen woman, and the fall guy.

The color of winter surely is white, and a bit of grey? It is hard. The color of spring, of course, is green. And it feels like rain. How about summer? yellow! red! blue! the brightest of those colors. It burns. And the color of fall is burnt orange, and caramel.. That golden, honey-hued, sunlight-trapped amber. It soothes.

One of the best things about living here, is that I can experience the wondrous phenomenon of changing seasons. The very conspicuous, blatant transformation. It is not the simultaneous life and death hullabaloo going on in the tropics. there, it is a drama all the time -- either the blazing sun or the lashing thunderstorms. I admit all that has its own beauty, and I did enjoy that. In fact I long for it at times. It is a Bollywood masala movie. But I am always amazed at the more elaborate, highly demarcated play of  birth, growth, old age, and death, enacted annually, in these parts. This here is a Kathakali performance.

Now to  the tastes -- the taste of spring is that of the dewdrop-like nectar from the velvety  flowers of the banana tree, back home. Like  green tea made of lime leaves,with  a kick of ginger, and a hint of lemongrass. The slow, languorous but refreshing  wake-up cup. Nature is itching to go! Like frisky little bunnies, and lambs. Summer is a tall, cool glass of freshly squeezed lemonade. It has the earthy taste of grilled food. It is fun, but it is also sweat and toil.  Fall tastes and smells like apples with caramel ,and cinnamon. Such an accomodating season! Its colors reverberate all over -- on the trees, in the very color of its light, its foods, in the soft glow of a bonfire, or of the little flame inside a lantern-- that warm caramel color. I think I eat winter when I eat ice cream. But winter tastes like hot chocolate. And roasts. And at times, it feels like shrouded death -- cold and bare.

Come to think of it, I like all seasons. That gradual thawing, unfolding of life. The struggle of the tiny green shoot rising from the ground. After all that waiting, spring moves in fits and starts. But winter's iron hand is slow to let go. It comes in the form of  frost, killing off new buds. And the rain -- those sudden dampenings, sometimes, almost as an afterthought. Like a wet blanket, it restrains the soul raring to fly. Nevertheless, it finally eases away, making room for summer's frolic and thirst. Summertime, it sometimes goes by in a flash. A jog, a bout of yardwork, a few grillings on the patio, if you are lucky, a stroll under the blue skies, outglaring the sun's glare on a beach. The hot, parched earth looks for a gentle coolness.  And then comes Fall.

The apple pie season. I had never tasted an apple pie before I came here. The minute I did, I fell for it. It was perfect. The right balance of sweet and tart and spice. My kind of delicious. It was the proverbial feast for the senses. Surprisingly, I felt  like I had tasted it before! Like I was revisiting a familiar flavor.

So, is fall my favorite season? Am I falling for Fall? (couldn't resist it haha) Maybe. In any case, Fall  is cool, and cozy. Nature has retired, content, after a lifetime of intensities -- the wet longing of spring and the fiery passion of summer are gone. Fall is memories, and the reaping of what one  planted. It is as though nature is pleasantly spent, ready to put her feet up. She exhales. Even the leaves fall with a sigh -- of relief? of resignation? because they know that it is the beginning of the end. Death is coming, but for now, we are sitting around the flickering fire, wrapped in warm coats, relaxed, remembering. At peace with the earth, the sky, the stars, and hopefully, one's companions.

Now, to the apple pie - it's baking in the oven. :)
The season and the food are so happily joined and let me share a slice of that pie with you! :

Have a great fall! ;)

PS: This piece is so full of cliches, makes me want to puke. but still I meant every word. :)