Summer came suddenly and caught the bougainvillea naked. He had to hastily begin to throw leaves and flowers. Urgent, hasty branches tossed with the ferocity of a newborn baby to give me a brief shadow.
The pruning was delayed, no one predicted that summer would come upon us in mid-April. Nisan, who has a thousand waters, no longer lives according to the proverbs. It is no longer rainy that comes after the windy March and brings us a beautiful and flowery May.
The old phrase “time is crazy” is now literally becoming a reality. More precisely, we can say that we drove him crazy with our indifference, our unlimited ambition, our lack of restraint. We have consumed the planet, destroyed it, and now we will pay for the consequences of never realizing that we are a part of it and that everything we do against it is to our own detriment.
So, summer is here, and experts who always say scary things say it doesn’t seem like summer will pass. Summer has come and caught us off guard like bougainvillea. Outerwear still hangs on hangers, and summer clothes are still stored in the back of the closet.
I have written about this topic many times since it is not a new topic. I’ve said at times that we’re going to die from a long hot summer, the beautiful title of that movie where Paul Newman stopped being just a handsome boy, based on the stories of William Faulkner.
Around here, in this southern neighborhood where I live and live, a priest asked the saint to take him to the procession to pray for rain. I don’t remember how long it’s been since I read a news about it. Cunqueiro would sometimes refer to a story set in Germany, where one summer and one autumn there was not a drop of rain, and the people were restless as a result. However, a soldier from the American forces stationed there (it must have been shortly after World War II) offered to bring the rain. He was of the Sioux nation. As the moon went down, she stood in the middle of the square of a small town in the region and performed a Sioux dance to the rain god. They say that as soon as it was over, great clouds appeared and it began to rain.
But now there are no Sioux Indians who know the dance of the rain, only warmth, endless summer, and this bougainvillea overflowing with flowers, not knowing that perhaps soon there will be no drop of water for one last flower. .