Memoirs of a Nature Voyeur
I’ve watched the earth and weather fornicate right in front of us and we don’t even realise it. As Al Gore pointed out… an year to the planet is like one full breath, inhalation and exhalation. Well to me one year is like a day and night of courting for the planet. Picture earth as the lady and the weather as the not so gentleman.

Spring
Winter is over so it’s time to flirt. They’re recovering from the previous night. She gradually decorates her trees with light clothing… lots of leaves and a blossom put on like glitter, they only stand out when he focuses his light on them. He does not seem that interested after last night. It’s to early anyway so they both want to get their bearings back.

Summer
Just like an animal on heat… it’s on! Not only has she dressed up fully, she’s also accessorised ostentatiously with nests and birds and sometimes with carrier bags stuck on her limbs. Those are not her choice just like a lumpy mascara. Seems like he can’t keep his glare off her, so much so it’s making her heat up. She sends her flocks of birds at him, like teasing him with her perfume. He’s still a gentleman for now, only the glare of his heat is aggressive. She can’t resist it. Grass and flowers reach up to him like goosebumps.

Autumn
Feels like evening and as much as they don’t want to part… they have to get changed for their rendezvous. She comes back with a fiery number, yellows like butter that make him melt. Oranges like the blushing they both try to ignore. Reds like a dessert with a cherry on top that he can’t wait to eat. He changes his aggressive hot sun for a cooler, mysterious moon. He glitters like a superstar. They take a minute to look each other over and later nature take it’s course. Before you know it… he is intensely flirting with her, his wind takes her and spins her around, grabs her securely and flings her away sometimes like in Swing Dance, sometimes like Tango. His wind passes through her leaves like a fingers through hair… but as it gets stronger it’s more like he’s undressing her. Her leaves settle on the ground… she does not care if she seems un-ladylike any more. She bares all.

Winter
It’s about that time. Even though they’re naked and cold, the play fighting goes on. Everything on her feels like a celebration with kissing under mistletoes and unwrapping his gift, everything on him feels like he has no control. How can they be so stiff and supple? While we walk on by trying to get away from the misery and layer up… these two are inseparable. The time has come… we look forward for his point of no return because to us, it’s the perfect christmas. He covers her with his uncontrolled snow. We watch through our windows, some complain, others marvel but the two it matters most to… they are in rapture… and paralysed.

It’s spring again and they’re recovering from the pervious night…

(My thoughts are not meant to be too poetic or censored but I thought using ‘bukkake’ or ‘money-shot’ would not go too well so I thought I’d mention them here ;o))