The blood in Ralphie’s veins, which had turned to ice during the winter, is slowly starting to thaw out. When I wrinkle my nose, the coat of rime that covered it, cracks and what resembles minute shards of a tiny mirror tumble downwards. The rest of this mirror that reflected a dark and dreary landscape drip-drops to the floor of my hibernation cave. A ray of sunlight temporarily blinds my eyes that smile in recognition. A sparrow drops in to twitter its hello, singing a song of “Come out to Play!” My bones that I dared not move even a fraction of an inch during the ice-age, for fear of their shattering, they were so brittle, soak up the warmth like a tree branch does its sap.
The brain-freeze makes way for stirrings from my multi-sensory imagination. Ralphie shakes himself like a wet dog, trying to rid himself of the torrid fleas of winter memories that continue to pester him. The smell of honey and jasmine is in the air. A warmed-up rock pool offers a wonderful tub-like receptacle for Ralphie’s aching sinews. He draws comfort from the ancient wisdom of the surrounding rocks. The fluttery languid rhythm of aquamarine butterfly wings beating percussion of the wind reminds him to move his eyelids once in a while. He feels like new-born baby that still has to learn how to take his first steps.
Company!!! The smell of fresh bread and divine coffee makes the pool overflow with Ralphie’s drooling. These smells would quicken even the dead! A half-ling nymph helps him dress and feeds him. An invigorating neck massage follows. Ralphie fills his lungs with what seems like liquid air that gives him a of floating on the mild breeze.From up high his roving eyes take in the splendours of the kaleidoscopic flora, filled with flitting critters that go about their daily activities. Hello world, thank the Mother that spring is here.It is such a joy to feel alive once again!
The inkwell beckons. Ralphie sharpens his pen and sits down to regale you with more of his past and present mind-travels. Let the fun and games begin! He might even take this earthly vessel, which is his body, on the road again. Because the wanderlust is getting stronger and stronger. Maybe the time has come to go roust his friend Nigel, the busker, from his wintry perch and entice him to travel together once more…