The Early Winter Park

2nd June,92

I took Budgy, a ten-months old bull-terrier who I called my son, to the park, on the first day of June, to wait for the first rain of the season to come.

The elms have lost their foliage, they all looked like giant corals of the sea. There was a small maple tree then, still with some leaves hanging on its twigs, standing at the centre of the park. It was certainly not as attractive as it had been a few weeks before, yet it was the most outstanding sight of the park still. I went over to the maple. A gust of wind started to blow then, which made me fear of that the maple would be completely deprived of its remaining leaves. But only some were blown away: they soared up high to the sky, then glided down to waltz with those who were already on the ground. Those still hanged on to where they had grown out from giving me an impression of being unyielding, even cheerful: for they danced like flamingoes in the blast, and when the wind subsided, they touched the nearby branches, releasing a tinkling sound that sounded like a song of triumph to my ear.

Then the wind died, there were dark clouds out of nowhere, covering up the sky. I could see a fine layer of moisture condensing on the surface of the leaf that was right in front of my eyes, and damped it with a thin coat of water. Then the rain fell, a few tiny drops at first, scattering on the leaf. The drops on the leaf looked like crystal beads embedded in a piece of orange-coloured onyx, which I saw once at a jewellery shop. Then there were more drops, and they merged into a little pool of water on the surface of the leaf.

Then the stem of the leaf could no longer sustain the weight, the leaf tilted, the little pool of water formed a small stream, trickling down the longest tip of the maple leaf, disappearing into the thick carpet of fallen leaves. And the leaf sprang back to its former position, like an opened little hand of a child, to reap another reward from the heaven . Budgy looked up and down and dug up the leaves, trying to find out where the water had gone. Since he couldn't understand what was happening, he barked.

Then the rain turned in to a heavy down-pour, it seemed the water had permeated every part of the world, and every part of the world was united by dissolving in the same water. I could see nothing around me, nothing but the shape of the elm trees, the colour of the maple leaves, white water, and more white water; I could hear nothing, nothing but the rain pelting on the fallen leaves: I felt the whole world was being washed: the sky, the earth, the trees in between, and my body, and my soul.

When everything on earth was soaked, the rain stoped, suddenly and completely. A beam of sun light slashed a gap through the clouds, giving the world a clear outline. I took a deep breath. Even the air seemed to have been washed: it smelled fresher than ever.

I got down on my knees, listening to the earthworms tunnelling through the soil, reaching the surface, and pulling the leaves into their underground world. I wish I could turn into a giant beetle, to help the earth worms with their harvest.

Then I heard Budgy's bark. He was standing on a bench, looking at the sun. He shook his body to dry himself, then barked to his content. When he shook, he sent out a fine spray of water, and the spray refracted and separated the seven colours of the sun to form a miniature rainbow.

Then I looked at the sun and cried out loudly, I trampled on the soggy ground, I reached out to the sky, yet I didn't know exactly what I am reaching out for, but I am sure that was what I could never see, never feel, never hear, never smell, that was something beyond my humble human sensation.