seasonal sorrows | at the cusp

Switching seasons in a land of four seasons is something our wonder | wander | women tropical genes have yet to get used to. Even after a decade of life in our adopted homelands it still is a challenging shift we feel in every cell of our body.

this side of the pond - Edgewater NJ

Inside and out we feel invaded by body snatchers, violated and abused. Subjected to wild roller coaster rides and loopy loops - physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Shifting seasons turn us into a rebelling revolt of massive magnitude.

Mahala & Issa - Chiang Mai, 2007

Our heads turn into weathervanes - distinctive Koosh ball hair puffs out as humidity rises with unpredictable summer thunderstorms.

rainy full moon night
Empire State Building, NYC

As the moisture gets sucked out of the air with dropping temperatures - skin crinkles and dries and all body hair stands at attention with static that zaps us out of our bodies in surprise.

The Shard and Southwark Cathedral - London, UK

No amount of oils, ungents and creams can save our parchment sensitive dermas from cracking and crackling like our favorite crispy fried chicharon.

ginormous NYC skyscrapers - baking in the sun

iconic Thames south bank

Tossing and turning in bed turns into a sparkler show of prickly lights and phosphorescent bites. Layering turns torturous as we peel off and add on pieces in terrorized anticipation of the buzzing, burning "bzzzt".

withered orchid depicts how our tropical skin feels

daylight summer moon

The attendant sting much aggravated by the neverending surprise.

It assuages our sour sorry state to see the colors turn. In the golden glory of light and shadow play. In the full lushness of leaves turning all shades of autumn gilded glows.

Wafting breezes cool our aggrieved skin and soul. As it regrets the warm moist loss of summer and embraces the cool dry arrival of fall. Our DNA still wired for tropical rainforests that no longer exist.