A new house is like a new friend.
It takes time to get to know it and its occupants; the different moods, quirkiness, the versatile traits, both negative and positive. It takes time to settle in and although I have lived here for almost six months, I am still establishing new routines and my own place - not just in the new house but also in my new life.
Slowly, I am introducing my touch, so to speak, into an already establish home. Trying not to be too overwhelming and larger than life, remaining respectful and apprehensive, yet still - having a strong desire to have my home reflect the fact that a woman has moved in.
Whether I am succeeding in this endeavor or not is mirrored in the reactions of my new family. I win some and I loose some, as to be expected. The boys are mostly oblivious to my efforts, but the lovely girl senses the changes and has stated in no uncertain terms that her father's house has become much more cosy and delightfully scented since I moved in.
I take that as a sign of success.
Thus this year the Christmas decorations in my home are much more austere than I am used to. Still, the ornate details here and there create an atmosphere of familiarity and celebrate this delightful season in the spirit of love, family and companionship - the very essence of Christmas.
I was born under the Tatra Mountains, to a Czech father and a Slovak mother. I grew up in Sweden and lived almost ten years in North Carolina.
More than a decade ago my line of work took me to Denmark, where I live today. My home, which I share with the man that holds my heart, lies in the northerly part of a Danish peninsula, in the proximity of endless, wide and pristine westbound sandy beaches, surrounded by the rough and untamed North Sea.
My writing is defined by reflections on my cosmopolitan past and my intriguing present. Ultimately I try to convey in words and images my personal thoughts and feelings about life itself, with all its magic, natural splendour and the beauty of simple pleasures.