Death of the red spider lilies, but cosmos aplenty.
We arrived at Kinchakuda after three trains, two hours, and a whole lot of rain. Decked out in hiking boots and rain jackets, we braved the drizzly grey and found beauty in abundance. The vivid reds we had anticipated were replaced with graying pinks, but the sight was captivating nonetheless. With a touch of imagination, we could almost picture in the fading afternoon light how fiery red the fields must have looked a week ago. A week too late perhaps, but better late than never.
At least there were cosmos. And chestnut steamed buns. And our cheerful spirits that rain couldn’t dampen. Oh, and quite thankful for waterproof hiking boots as well, which were worn in anticipation of the lovely hikes the area has to offer (though completely unappealing in the rain).
The path to the fields wove through countryside homes, bushes of wildflowers, and small cemeteries. It was both somber and beautiful. The few handfuls of red spider lilies along the way, fading into their surroundings, made our hearts sink a little as we crossed a bridge and walked along small lanes to the giant field of flowers. Yet in a way, I’m glad we didn’t know they were gone before we got there, or we would’ve missed out on a nice adventure.
How often can we run through fields of flowers in the rain?