When next I visited Harwan in the middle of May spring had given way to early summer. The mountain-sides were dotted over with clumps of yellow barberry and wild pink roses; clematis was in bloom, and honeysuckle was trailing from the trees. On the ground were large wild geraniums, the big purple iris, white dead nettle, yellow potentillas, strawberry blossom, tom-thumbs, clover, ferns, speedwell, and primulas. The rocks by the stream were often covered with ivy and overhung by sprays of pink roses. While on the mountain-sides, on the northward-facing slopes, the wild apricot, cherry, and wych hazel, and in the valley bottom willow, mulberry, and walnut were in full leaf. And among the birds were now golden orioles, wagtails (white and yellow), kingfishers, herons, water-robins, buntings, grey tits, wren warblers, paradise fly-catchers, bulbuls, thrushes, redstarts, pigeons, doves, and shrikes.
The morning was cloudy and misty, but again with special beauties of its own. Long streaks of mist were drifting along the mountain-sides, all at precisely the same level. Mahadeo, 15,000 feet, was at first quite clear and lighted by the sun. Then a mist drifted towards it, and rapidly, but by almost imperceptible increase, the cloud enveloped it. Light misty clouds swirled about the mountain as currents and counter-currents seized them. Anon the mist in great part cleared away, and Mahadeo was seen peering through the clouds, bold and supernaturally high. Then the peak and all the mountain-sides were enveloped in dark heavy clouds, rain fell, and there seemed every prospect of a wet and gloomy day. But all unexpectedly rifts again appeared, and Mahadeo was once more seen rising composedly above the clouds, the young green foliage standing out distinct and bright, and each rock sharp and well defined. And so, hour after hour, the struggle between cloud and sunshine, between good and evil continued, it being impossible to tell at any moment which was more likely to prevail. The clouds seemed settling down, then a glint of sunshine was seen high on some upland lighting the fresh green grass and some stray shepherd hut. Finally wet prevailed, and the mist settled lower and lower on the valley, the rain poured down and a seemingly regular rainy day set in. But there was fascination yet in watching the mists floating along the mountains, forming and dispersing, enshrouding and revealing the mountain peaks; and the green of the little valley showed up greener than ever. The mountain-sides, usually so brown, were seen to be tinged with a delicate shade of green. The poplars, mulberries, and chenars at the mouth of the valley had each their own especial tint. The rice-fields showed up in brilliant emerald.
ABOVE LIDARWAT, LIDAR VALLEY
Yet after it had appeared to settle down for a whole day's rain the mists suddenly cleared away from the mountain. The sun broke through the clouds and showed up the rounded higher spurs with the soft, downy brown of an Oriental carpet, and the higher peaks stood out sharp and clear. An hour later long level lines of mist appeared and swiftly grew thicker, the whole mountain from one level upward was once more enveloped in cloud which thus gained the final victory.
Harwan village itself at this time of year was strikingly picturesque. It was enshrouded in massive clumps of chenar foliage, below which were the lighter shades of the willow, mulberry, and walnut, and the straight, graceful, white-trunked poplars piercing through. Here and there a horse-chestnut in full flower lit up the foliage, and most beautiful of all were the patches of tall irises—dark purple, mauve, and white—which now surrounded the village. Numerous water-courses rushing through the village lands gave brightness, cheeriness, and a sense of coolness; while the crowing of cocks, the twittering of the birds, the lowing of cattle, and the neighing of the ponies grazing on the rich green grass in the valley bottom, and the distant calls of the shepherd boy to the flocks of sheep and goats on the mountain, gave further animation to the scene. And whether it was more entrancing now, or three weeks later when the irises were over, but when it was wreathed in white roses, it would be difficult to say. Irises and roses are the two especial beauties of Kashmir villages and Kashmir lanes and hedgerows. And I would not like to positively state which was the more beautiful—the rich clumps of mauve and purple irises surrounding the village with warmth and colour in the spring, or the clustering wreaths of roses, white and pink, brightening the village lands and hedgerows in the summer.
SUNSET ON THE JHELUM, ABOVE SRINAGAR