This photo was taken in Diu, on the eighteenth day of a recent trip to India. Diu is a tourist town in the state of Gujarat, on the Arabian Sea, where alcohol is permitted, and where mainly Indian tourists come for the beaches. By the time we arrived to Diu, I was pretty worn down from the heat and from not getting enough sleep. Seeing the ocean revived me and I knew there had to be a fishing village nearby. Our amazing driver and friend, Surya Singh, delivered us the next morning to the fishing port of Vanakbara, where we I enjoyed walking amongst the activity of boats unloading their catch into the hands of women who would sell the fish in smaller lots to merchants who would then prepare the fish for retail markets. Diu was but a small part of India, a remarkable experience of a remarkable place. I miss it already.
To simplify things a few decades ago, I stopped setting the start of the seasons to the exact placement of the Earth as it orbits about the Sun. The pagans and astronomers can have the equinox and solstice: in my personal cosmology today is the first day of Winter. On this day each year, I welcome the sight of sweet Winter apples dangling from a tree naked of leaves and laden with glistening fruit. The apples remind me of paintings done by innocent children, apples painted with doink doink brush strokes as if every dappled blot holds the taste of each blotted apple in the child’s mouth.