Endings And Beginnings.

Our Old House

In exactly two weeks, we will leave this house, never to return.
It is an old rental, bearing an imprint of the seventies, when it's cornerstone was laid. It is drafty, with faulty electrical wiring, outdated appliances and in a desperate need of a makeover. It is too small and too impractical.
Still, I can not help but feeling slightly sentimental saying my good byes.

It has been my home for the past eighteen months and my husband spend seven years here, watching his children grow from babies into teenagers. As much as our departure touches me, it must move him in a quite profound way, despite the fact that he at all times viewed it as a temporary place of residence, while he waited for his life to resume after his marriage fell apart.

I often mention in my writing how happy I am and how meeting the love of my life became the onset of my personal golden age.
However I often forget, that just as much as he changed my life around, I also changed his. I brought his way love, affection and a sense of happiness he searched feverishly for. Additionally, I came with immense possibilities, changing his life style, offering him and his kids a better reality.
None of us could have afford the beautiful house we are about to move into before we met - together we have redefined each others reality.

Moving Boxes

Everywhere I look, there are boxes and crates.
It is staggering to realize that so many items can get collected in such a small space, over such a short span of time. My presence here must have doubled the number of our possessions, despite the fact that most of what I own is still in storage. Thus I can not help but feel a sense of dejavu, recalling how many times in my past the conclusion of a move turned into a disposal frenzy, when one just simply wants to throw everything away and finally be done with it.
Still, it will be exciting to once again gaze at all my belongings, using these to decorate and style our home. What a joy it will be not to have to feel like a guest any longer - even though no one ever made me feel as such here.

Once again I look at the old birch tree outside our windows realizing I will never see it green again. I will never again see the bloom of the multitude of plants and flowers I planted last spring and summer - they will instead bring enchantment to the new tenants.
I will miss the garden more than anything - particularly the scented lilac in the corner of the backyard and the ruby coloured hollyhocks, surrounding our terrace, those almost signature flowers of this house.
However I take comfort in the excitement of discovering a new green spot, the natural haven surrounding our new house. It is full of fruit trees, houses several raised planting boxes and even has a small greenhouse.
I know in no uncertain terms that comes summer, this is where I will be seeking comfort and solace during my solitude.

Therefore all that really remains is to say thank you to this latest home, which offered me shelter and made me feel safe. It has earned its righteous place in my very personal collections of the many locations, where I have laid down my hat.
The beauty of every end is that it is followed by a new beginning. Thus once again I move on, feeling endlessly excited about what is yet to come.

My Favorite View - click image to enlarge

Reflections In Snow.

View From Our Kitchen

I sit once again in my favorite spot, in our kitchen, looking out onto the bare birch tree, as it stands so very still in the snow. I try to savour the stunning wintry images as much as I can. Despite the fact that the alabaster blanket is several feet deep, a major thaw is on its way, robbing us most likely of all hope for a white Christmas.

I have mixed feelings about snow - driving in it is a true nightmare and the adrenaline rush cutting through my body as the car wheels start sliding uncontrollably is the most terrifying feeling imaginable. Add some evening fog to the mix and I become paralyzed with fear. Night fog is in my opinion the most horrid condition to drive in. Especially thick fog banks that come out of nowhere and force me to slam on the brakes as I suddenly hit a wall of total nothing and visibility of zero.

Views During My Daily Drive

Thus in the past two weeks, following snow storms that made it impossible for me to set out onto my long daily commute, I have been confided to the house for some days here and there. Yet, as the roads cleared and the sun came out, the drive to work turned into an enchanting and visually stunning experience and the views of the snowy landscape touched me almost to tears...
Therefore I will truly miss the snow, as it illuminates the darkest months of the year, creating so much beauty. Almost every morning this past week as I sat behind the wheel, the only though occupying my mind was "I wish I had my camera with me and I wish I could stop and capture all this endless brilliance of nature and winter at its very best..."

With barely a week left to Christmas I wonder where the time is going.
I find myself so out of it and am becoming increasingly disorganized.
I, who used to live by routines and had every week meticulously planned in advance am now living from day to day, where my reality is improvised and spontaneous. My life is a wonderful mess and there is an intensity in it that makes me feel alive.
Carrying boxes with our Christmas ornaments out of our garage the other day, falling knee deep into the pristine snow in the process, the sight of the garage interior made me gasp. So much stuff! And it all has to be sorted out, packed into boxes or disposed off within the next month. It will be a difficult task to do in the midst of a cold winter.
Perhaps the thaw that is coming is after all heaven send.

Our Decorations Detail

Later, when I decorated the house, it struck me that this was the last time I did so here. Next December, I will be decking the halls in our new home. As always, I felt nostalgia grasping my heart - every ending is sentimental and everything that concludes usually comes across as bittersweet, no matter how much we look forward to what is to come.

Sometimes I lie awake late at night, when everything is so very still. My mind starts racing, my thoughts run like wild horses. Facing two mortgages in the future, how will that go?
Being a landlord, I am still connected to my past through the white house on the hill. It is an odd feeling, knowing there is a property out there that belongs to me on paper, yet which I never see, only maintain. Here and there something breaks and I am asked to repair it, which means I make a call and a craftsmen is send to the house. It has been months since I last visited the property that I own. The other day, sending a Christmas card to my tenant, writing my old address yet another name on the envelope, I experienced a truly surreal moment...

Our Entrance

For most of my adult life, I have been alone.
Every problem, every decision, every hurdle - I had to overcome them and solve them on my own. That notion still envelops my being and I still become anxious and apprehensive about the difficulties that the future holds.
Yet as time moves on, I am slowly learning to live in the present, something my husband is greatly proficient at. His smiling face and loving arms reassure me at all times that I am no longer alone.

Taking risks and taking action -  these are what brings us forward, enriching our experiences and our perception. However hard it is for me to accept that the uncertainty of the future is the only certainty there truly is, simultaneously I am realizing that this very fact is the essence of a rich, full life in progress.

View Of Our Backyard

 

Everything Is Illuminated.

As we step into December, the weather has turned bitterly cold and the first snow of the season has fallen - as if on cue - with the onset of the first winter month.
Embarking on my long commute after work the other day, three hours into a dark winter evening, I left the traffic of a busy metropolis behind and set out onto the deserted freeway. Driving along, I experienced a sudden sense of enchantment.
The darkness subsided and the full moon peaking occasionally through the clouds cast an alluring silver light onto the road ahead, while my favorite musical piece kept playing in the background.

I felt as if suddenly everything was illuminated.

Thus yet another unforgettable moment formed in my perception - an occurrence that is fairly common these days.

My dreams and hopes are all slowly become reality and the future indeed seems bright.
In a couple of months we will begin the process of moving into a new house - a place that will become our home.

Sitting in our lawyers office this past week, getting through the last administrative paperwork before signing the dead, my mind went through a short flashback to almost exactly a decade ago.
Seated in a similar office, in a another part of the country, I was signing a deed to my very first house, the white house on the hill, having an entirely different future planned ahead off me. I never thought then that ten years down the road I would be embarking on a novel journey once again. I find this to be the most alluring aspect of life - not knowing what the future holds.
One thing remains the same though - I feel equally excited about the prospect of the purchase as I did then. When we walked into our house for the first time, both me and my husband, without any communication between us, knew in our hearts we have found our home.

Giving in to the wave of changes, I have taken the decision to change my citizenship.
It is an important step, one that I take gladly, but one that is leaving me full of nostalgia.
I am giving up a country where I was not born and where I have not lived for over two decades, yet where I spend twelve very important and formative years. It is a country that took my family in and gave us shelter and a promise of a better future. It was where I spend a blissful childhood, where I went to school, where I had my first home and my first employment. It is where I made the friends I still have in my life and where the foundation was laid to who I am today.
Thus I take this step with a sense of apprehension, even though there is no doubt in my mind that my decision is the right one. After "belonging" to one country almost all my adult life, despite my many moves and relocation - I guess I have finally found a reason to belong elsewhere. I have found a reason to lay down my hat right here.
I have finally found my home.

Indeed, everything is illuminated, even though we are amidst the darkest time of the year. November noir has ended, becoming replaced by December brightness - not just defined by the shine of the full moon, but by all the twinkling, ornate lights adoring houses and lining the roads and the multitude of candles burned throughout the Scandinavian homes.
I have always loved this time of the year, when this undefined yet so tangible and unified joy settles all across my world.
Still, never before have I enjoyed the onset of the Holidays more than I do today.

Love, family and home - these are the blessings that define Christmas and currently these make up the very core of my life and are the shinning beacons that illuminated my heart. 
Each and every day is precious and even the darkest winter night is suddenly full of light.

Year One.

The first anniversary of my move north came and went, without much notice on my part. Last week however, some reoccurring, yearly sport event made me realize that by mid July I have indeed spend one year in my new home.

I can safely conclude that these have been the best twelve months of my life. At times I view my life as a combinations of assorted segments. Personal eras that start and end with defying events. Taken together they make me feel like I have already lived several lifetimes combined into one. Last year yet again another new era started and I am endlessly excited about the novel prospects that await in my future.

Most of all I am looking forward to move to a new house, a house that I will hopefully one day soon purchase together with my husband. The period of looking, searching and planning is endlessly exciting. My old white house has been taken off the market and I am becoming a landlord, renting it out until it can be sold at a good price in the future. Today it is a buyers marked and the sellers have to comply, thus I guess we better take advantage of this fact and become buyers instead.

Time is definitely occupying my thinking as of lately. Yet, the avenues have shifted slightly and I have found myself contemplating the subject of death.
I have never contemplated it to any deeper extend before. Of course, just like everyone else, I too am scared of dying, but the fear that recently enveloped me is not the fear of death and the pain of the event itself, more the fear of the finality that it brings.

I dread the end of my consciousness.
The end of experiences, excitement and adventures, of new possibilities and unforgettable moments. I love to be alive - despite the pain and suffering, there is also so much beauty and magic at every turn, so much new to be discovered every day. The termination of all this a horrid and appalling idea. At least, unless one is a believer, death definitely brings an end to life as we know it. I truly feel these have been some of the most haunting thoughts I have ever had. Perhaps they are born out of the surprising and overwhelming happiness that defines my life currently, forcing me to see the other end of the scale. Taking a peak into an abyss that I know awaits, one day. As always, we fear the unknown - and death is by far the most certainly occurring unknown there is.

It feels as if our summer has not really begun - due to the absolutely unseasonable weather we have had. Yet small signs here and there tell me undoubtedly that my favourite season has passed its peak.
I just noticed that our rowan is already displaying half ripen berries. Plants, bushes and trees are now big and lush, having attained that deep dark green, signifying that their growth is slowing down and ceasing.

Yet for the first time ever this does not bring sadness into my perception. On the contrary, slowly a joy starts to gain hold, an anticipation and excitement, similar to the one I used to experience as a little girl when Christmas was approaching. Soon a true countdown will begin, as I await the return of the man I love.
With about five weeks left of our separation, I have finally allowed myself to slowly visualize his homecoming in my mind. Thus at last I can glimpse the light at the end of the dark tunnel and the approaching fall season has never looked more appealing and never been more anticipated in my eyes than this year.

Northern Night Skies.

I recently complained about the lack of alluring views. Those that I used to marveled over in my former home. While this fact still remains, I have also realized that if I only take the time to look, stunning light shows still take place right above me.

Last week, as I opened our bedroom window close to midnight, I could glimpse beautifully painted heavens to my left. Stepping out into our garden illuminated by the twilight of a white night, I could see purple clouds moving across a scintillated sky. The traces of a late summer sunset lingered across the north, reflecting the sun which moved just below the horizon on its way to the east, in order to rise in just a few hours.

I stood there in the stillness of the colourful night and felt deeply sentimental, as I got enveloped in bittersweet remembrance of what once was, while fully aware of the magic I was witnessing right then and there and simultaneously exhilarated about the endless possibilities of what is yet to come...

Secret Garden.

I grew up in apartments and thus when I purchased my first house, I had no experience in gardening. Furthermore, I had no true inclinations or any kind of emotional or practical association with a garden, not even plants. It was my mom and my sister who had the green thumb, not me. All I recall from my childhood was my mother tending to the few potted plants we had at home, changing the dirt in the spring on our balcony or patio.

My parents did live for a few years in a townhouse with a tiny backyard, which they slowly transformed into a tranquil hideaway. By that time I no longer lived at home and thus could follow the progress in growth and development every time I came to visit.
Therefore fueled by my parents enthusiasm, the two terraces of my former home became a play ground for me in terms of my gardening experimenting.

I can in no way claim to be an experienced or skillful gardener, a far cry from that I must admit. The limited knowledge I posses today was born mostly out of my mistakes. If anything, I am a perceptive gardener - I go with my feelings and intuition. Additionally I follow one simple advice I heard once spoken by an expert on a garden television show;  give a plant food, water and sun - or no sun, depending on its natural habitat.
Indeed in time I realized that is really all one needs to know. Taken together with a joy, interest and genuine love for plant life, anyone can tend to a garden and make it flourish and prosper.

The garden of my dreams is a wild and untamed one, almost a secret garden. A lush and secluded spot, which when entered feels enchanted. I am not a fan of meticulously maintained flowerbeds and trimmed bushes. To me the most beautiful is that which gets to grow free and unrestricted, creating tranquil oases, hidden from view, scented by natural perfumes. One day perhaps I will have my dream come true - until then I tend to the garden of my reality. And without any doubt, it is the only real asset of our old house.

Despite the fact that my father in law is an avid and extremely skillful gardener, my husband has no interest whatsoever in plants. To him gardening is just a bunch of boring chores, such as mowing the lawn and trimming the hedge. Thus when I moved in with him, I got the freedom and privilege to do whatever I pleased when it came to our yard.

To transform a neglected place to a lovely garden takes years and we might not even live here by then. Still, currently the outdoors offers the best therapy and seems to be the perfect recipe to cure my temporary sadness and loneliness. There is nothing like planting something and watching it grow and thrive. I take immense joy in looking after the plants and I survey them each day, looking for small changes that might have occurred over night. It gives me such a great satisfaction when the sun is out and I can tend to all the life that seems to spire and excel outside my home.

I can sense that our garden has already been established once, I only had to revive that which was already there - a multitude of roses, lilies, hollies, hollyhocks and scented shrubs. I added a few potted plants and flower baskets to our patio and planted a few vines to transform it into a lush and tranquil spot. I am also currently experimenting with seeds, which promise to grow into scented bloom attracting butterflies. Tending to our garden this way, I leave small souvenirs for the future occupants of the house. An imprint of my time here. Hopefully they will rejoice in the bloom I introduce just as I enjoy the the work of our predecessors. 

Gardening is like exercise - it must become a way of life, or it looses it's allure and is impossible to maintain. To me though there is nothing more magical than the outdoors. Plant and animal life and natural beauty holds almost a primal affection in my perception as the connection with nature is ancient and contained within my genes. I have always found solace and affirmation in its pristine beauty and will continue to see all natural life as an endless source of miracles and enchantment.

(All images in this post are taken in our garden, June 2012)

Four Seasons Of A Tree.

Perhaps some of you recall my fascination with a beautiful silver birch, which I could watch outside the windows of my old house.
I documented its changes over the course of a year in pictures and found the reward for watching a tree during the various seasons to be priceless.

Little did I know then that the tree would be cut down by my neighbours a few years later, to my shock and disbelief. Thus my photography is all that remains as a testimony to its existence...

Therefore I was thrilled to find a birch in the front garden of my new home and have likewise captured its changes throughout the past summer and autumn, from green to bare.
This spring I returned with camera in hand to document its awakening and the results can be seen in the pictures below, including a shot I took in winter as well, concluding its yearly cycle.

I love to watch the swaying of its branches outside our kitchen window. This birch can not match the beauty of the one I used to feast my eyes on in my former home. Yet it is ours and as long as we live here, it is safe. Its presence grants me the privilege to follow the natural transformations throughout the seasons, as they pass my views with uncanny precision and reassurance.

(Please click images for a larger view) 

Midsummer Night.

We have crossed yet another seasonal threshold.
The day of the Summer Solstice is such an enchanting occurrence and yet it also instigates a gentle melancholy in me.

June is signified by the duality of Gemini and thus the first summer day reflects too a joy and simultaneously a sadness. A pinnacle of light has been reached – even though summer is only beginning; the sun now embarks onto a reverse journey away from us, shortening our daylight by each passing week...

Ever since my move north a year ago, I rarely thought about the stunning vistas at the white house - yet I do so very much currently and I truly miss them...
Gone is the unrestricted view of the horizon, the mesmerizing late night sunsets, which set the heaven on fire, the beauty of the illuminated midnight sky and the enticing glow of noctilucent clouds - these light shows played out in front of my windows almost every day through out the summer - year after year, never to loose their allure.

Our low lying house has no extraordinary views to speak off. The only sign telling me we are indeed amidst the time of the white nights are our solar lamps and lanterns, decorating the shielded patio and glowing silently yet persistently in the dusk that has replaced the nights.

And yet, stepping out into our garden in the stillness of the midnight twilight, I can nevertheless trace the silvery sky beyond the treetops and gaze mesmerized at the starless heavens above me as we cross into the small hours of the morning. Unmistakably, the air holds an aura of enchantment and one can easily fall for the magic of the Midsummer Night, when secret portals are open and the esoteric lurks in the shadows.

Vernal Bloom Revisited.

We have entered the first summer month and yet it feels weather wise as if we have stepped into fall. What a difference a week can make - the end of May was hot and sunny, while now rain and grey skies with plummeting temperatures are our reality.

Still, officially summer arrives first in a few weeks, thus the hope for sunny skies, hot days and warm nights is nevertheless alive.
One thing we will be granted for sure - the culmination of white nights - as the countdown to summer solstice has already commenced.

Before it all truly begins,  I would love though to take you back to the past three months in pictures. Back to the time that is infinitely defined by bloom, awakenings and growth.
Discovering our garden in spring, I enjoyed watching the vernal bloom and marveled over its versatility in regards to the blossom period, the colours, the texture and consistency of the flowers and of course, the scent. I saw some familiar faces yet also made my acquaintance with some novel beauties, walking around our garden with camera in hand.

As always, so much treasure waits to be discovered just outside our doorstep - if we only look.

(I participated with this post on Farmgirl Friday Blog Hop)

Monday Reflections.

Looking into the mirror the other day I wondered amusingly who was that old woman staring back at me. Those drooping creases around her mouth, deep crowfeet around her eyes, a lack of luster and suppleness in the cheeks, the grey hair.

I find aging to be a very unsettling process, as it is so very relative and extremely exponential. It sneaks upon us, comes out of nowhere and is unstoppable. Yet the absolute worst thing about this inevitable physical decline must be the fact that it does not at all reflect the age we feel inside.

At times I entertain the idea of fixing it. I am a strong opponent of plastic surgery done solely for cosmetic purpose, yet I too pull the skin on my face back occasionally just for a moment in order to revisit the looks of my past. But eventually I just giggle and realize that I would rather be wrinkled as a dried up raisin, being genuine through and through than be perfectly artificial and superficial. After all, I have found that the very old cliche of beauty lying within is true. Experiences and a life lived reflected in a face in combination with an inner glow radiating happiness makes a human being endlessly attractive.

Indeed, time moves forward whether we like it or not and yet another winter is ending - way too fast. I am now only two months away from an event I dread. By each passing day this inevitable occurrence occupies my thinking more frequently, as I try hard to find positive aspects of the impeding separation from the man I love. They are few to none I am afraid.
Thus I work hard presently on one of my greatest drawbacks - the need for control. Anything beyond my control unsettles and worries me. Being with a man that is a total opposite in this trait makes me realize that if I relax and let events unfold, everything will be fine. Still, old habits die hard.

I watch the spring sun illuminate our windows and see how dusty they are. It makes me smile as I recall the windows of my white house on the hill. Just a year ago I had no idea that twelve months down the road I would no longer live there. At times I miss the unrestricted view of the sky, which instigated a sense of liberation. I also miss some of my possessions. It is an odd feeling having had a large home filled with items that belonged to me only, to have them suddenly gone. Sometimes I wonder when/if I will ever see them again - and when I do, will that make me happy?

For someone who has lived on her own more than half of her life, I find it very easy to share a home with a new family. I have adapted and have gotten accustomed to this house, which is so very different from my former home. When all the children are here with us, it is way too small and too crowded. Still, during those times it exuberates life and love, something that I can no longer - nor will no longer - be without. Despite the fact that I once had almost thirteen hundred square feet for myself,  I am today perfectly happy and content when I can escape for just a few minutes to my favourite spot in the kitchen. Here I can sit undisturbed with my laptop at the table, watching the birch tree branches sway in the wind outside the window against pink sunrises, while I listen to the sound and laughter of my loved ones in close proximity.

Yes, this house is certainly too small and too old. With almost half a century on its back, it is outdated and old fashioned.
Nevertheless, I smile as I realize it is just like me.
Similar in age, it is no longer supple and young. But it is original and endlessly beautiful because it has seen and felt life that is preserved between its walls. It has a soul that has been fueled by the presence of its occupants. Somewhere deep within I sense that right now it is making memories that will last a life time.
And so am I.

Our Home.

I remember very vividly, actually in minute details, the first time I visited the place that I call home today.
It was a wonderful spring Saturday, sunny and warm. The air was saturated by scents of the first bloom and something else, something novel yet very tangible - the sense of expectations and perhaps awakenings.
Natural and personal as well.

That day has since then become part of my most precious recollection, which consists of the most unforgettable moments in my life. In no uncertain terms, I experienced happiness to the extend I have not known by then. Having endured a very trying and devastating period in my life, one that barely ended by then, it felt as if I have been through the fires of purgatory and suddenly crossed the gates to paradise...

I recall particularly sitting on a covered patio, enjoying the warmth of a setting sun and a sharing a glass of wine with a man that was basically a stranger, yet who felt so familiar, so safe and so very exciting simultaneously. And I remember very strongly the persistent urge of not ever wanting to leave him.

Of course little did I know then that only a few months down the road, at one point I would indeed come back to stay for good. I moved in and am still in the process of doing so - little by little some more of my possessions find their way onto the shelves and into his cabinets and closets, which he only observes with amusement.

Thus slowly his home is becoming my home as well, even though it will take a while for me to stop feeling like a guest, something I have come to respect and accept. However, the transition has so far been so incredibly smooth and effortless, as even though it is a home of a man, it is cosy, loving, charming and warm. Just like the man himself.

Until we one day are able to purchase a home together, I relish in exploring the many sides of the man I love, by exploring the place where he has invited me to stay forever - our home.

(Please click on images for a larger view)