Raising The Old Anchor.

For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something. 
Steve Jobs

These days my mind keeps retuning to a time in my past, more than two decades ago. I was working at a university laboratory, fresh out of school, on the second year of my employment. Only twenty two years old, I enjoyed my life and the infinite, undefined future that laid ahead.

The laboratory had many members, anything from students and senior researchers to professors. Two of these were senior lab analysts, my colleagues - jovial, kind women, to whom I turned with questions and problems, when I was still very insecure in my profession and held very little experience in the science field. At that time, they have been employed there, at the same place, for over twenty years. I recall my infinite incomprehension of this fact. To me that time span accounted for a whole life time and the idea of being at the same location for such an eternity felt absolutely unimaginable. Indeed, about three years later, I left for the US, to work with my current employer.

Thus today, however outrageous that idea once seemed, I am exactly in their shoes, having worked for the same laboratory for twenty one years. There has been one relocation, the one that took me to Denmark, when my employer decided to go back home - but overall, I have been educated, trained and directed by the same man almost my whole professional life.

He brought out the hidden talents in me, gave me the opportunities to use my imagination and my skills and established an environment for me where I could thrive and flourish, excelling in the field of science with an incredible speed and endless success. He turned my work into my life and together with his wife, the couple became my best friends, a substitute family to a young girl far away from home. They became people I could - and still can today - count on one hundred percent to be there for me, should I ever need it.

Today I am one of the senior analysts in the lab.
I know where everything is, how everything works, as I am partly responsible for the overall running of the place. It is to me the young students turn with their troubles and problems. I am free to do whatever I like, I take days off at my fancy and decide my working hours. My work has always been the only constant in my life, something safe and secure. No matter how much my personal life changed, my professional life never did.

And yet, we all know that nothing ever stays the same, no matter how much we want - or expect it to. Along the way in life we make decisions that take us on novel paths, setting us on journeys that defy our world.
Thus all the choices I made in recent years in my private life slowly caused changes in my line of work as well, without me even noticing. At the onset, they were only ripples on the surface, but in time it became painfully apparent to me that the place of my employment, the one that has been my secure shelter and a solid anchor my whole adult life, has sadly played out its role...

In two weeks I will start a new job, for the first time in two decades. The emotion that encompass my being when I think about that fact is a wild mix of joy and fear.
There are days when I feel excited and happy about the prospect of a new start. I will still work in the research field, but my long commute will be cut by two hours every day, giving my personal life more freedom. However, the new position comes with responsibilities and a firm promise of hard work. I can not even recall any longer how it feels to work for someone else than my friend and my mentor and I wonder all the time whether I will be able to take direct orders from someone new - and whether he will find me competent in my skills.

Thus there are days when I wake up with a knot in my stomach, riddled with profound fear and anxiety, absolutely terrified and full of regrets. It feels as if I am to leave home again, for the first time since I was twenty, leaving my family for good, knowing I will miss them terribly.
I have made many outrageous changes in my life, but never before have I been so apprehensive about altering anything as I am today.

Somewhere deep within though, in the core of my very being, I know that I need to take this step, however scary it might seem. I need to say my thanks and my farewells and set out sailing anew.
I expect nothing and am prepared for everything, knowing hardship is linked to every change and things might get a lot worse before they get better. Yet hardship is what makes us grow and flourish, experiences have taught me that.
I believe that worst life is life lived with fear and I refuse to let fear of the unknown prevent me from embracing the very beauty of it. I try very hard to remember my own personal belief stating that change is what fuels our reality - I hope I will never get too scared to realize that.

Thus I have decided to raise my old anchor, the one that is rusty and buried in the depth of the sea, not having been moved for a very long time - a life time it seems. Yet the ship is still sail worthy and the ocean is open wide, thus lets sail into the unknown one more time.
I am confident that great adventures await.

Images: Photobucket

Siberian And Sunny.

Snowdrops

Our first vernal month goes down in history as one of the coldest ever measured. Air streaming directly from Siberia has kept the atmospere frigidly cold and the ground snow covered - but our skies have been unusually sunny for weeks at end, accounting for a seventy year old record.
I have mixed feelings about the cold weather. Indeed it is unbearable when winter is endless, yet I rather have cold, sunny skies, then warm, rainy air.

Nevertheless, a change of seasons is in the process and spring has gotten one foot in. The sun is gaining in strength by each and every day and despite the temperatures hoovering around zero, I decided to bundle up and take a walk in our new neighborhood this past weekend.

We live at the outskirts of the town and thus very quickly I found myself leaving the residential area behind and I begun walking among empty fields. Despite the flat lands, the views came across as absolutely enchanting, my gaze tracing an endless horizon, as the vital sunshine warmed my face. Listening to the singing of the lark, a bird song so significant of these parts, I realized that vernal bloom was covering the surroundings and that unmistakable sense of spring saturated the air. That undefinable yet so tangible perception of awakenings at winters end.

My Walk

My hour long walk inspired me to take up running, something I gave up on last autumn. Thus just before sunrise, every morning this week, I set out onto the frost covered ground, into Siberian conditions, to greet a world that was still asleep. With the moon setting in the west and the imminent sunrise in the east, I ran on a path among barren fields, marveling at the natural beauty.
And as always, nature put my mind to ease...

A lot is occupying my thinking these days, some of the thoughts fill me with anxiety.
Somewhere deep within me there is a sadness gaining hold. The seasonal shift means that summer is getting closer and so is the departure of the man that I love.
Once again, we will be separated for four months and already now this weights heavy on my heart. Having tried it before is actually not making things any easier. Oddly enough, harder. I can only take consolation in my own strength, that one that I found last time around. And in the profound love that we share.

Thus new projects are being planned in my mind, to keep me occupied, the spirits up and the sinister thoughts at bay.
Gardening is on top of the list. 

Forgotten Hyacinths

Our garden is beautiful, but in a simple way and I definitely am not a simple gardener. There is a total lack of vernal bloom - no spring flowers adorn the flowers beds, something I truly miss. And yet, cleaning our greenhouse the other day, I stumbled upon a forgotten pot, left behind by the former owners. It was full of blue hyacinths. The bulbs have survived the winter and were blooming despite the lack of watering - I took it as subtle sign that everything will be well.

I am also planning to undertake a project involving a mural painting. There is a spot above the Provence inspired stove area in our kitchen, in form of a little alcove in the wall. It absolutely screams for a tranquil French still-life. I am indeed excited about the prospect of reviving my old hobby - painting. Right now I am in stages of planning and preparations, in search of suitable paint and motif.

Danish Passport

I have officially become Danish and that leaves me with a sense of a bittersweet finale. A door is closing upon the first half of my adult reality. Yet simultaneously another one is opening wide.
I went to a photographer having a picture taken for my new driving license and passport. I had to gasp when the photographer returned the images to me, as I met the gaze of a middle aged woman. What happened to that young girl that used to smile at me for a decade, every time I opened my old Swedish passport? I guess she is forever gone - but maybe that is not such a bad thing.

Aging used to bother me quiet a bit. It still does and probably always will, yet I have started to slowly surrender myself to time.
Would I like to be twenty again? I am not so sure. Life is short, yet the magic lies in its ephemerality. I have done exactly what I was suppose to do and what I wanted to do. I have no regrets and no need to go back in time.
Ultimately I will happily trade my youth for the privilege of unforgettable experiences and priceless knowledge.

Endless Views Near Our Home

The Same Views At Dawn - The Setting Moon

The Same Views At Dawn - The Rising Sun

Moody March.

Our Fire

We are mid March and the subzero temperatures are back. The brief taste of spring at this month's onset disappeared as fast as it arrived - lady Winter is not ready to quit just yet.
As we all know, the first vernal month is capricious and moody. It can switch between seasons at its own fancy, testing our patience and tolerance. In my native language, there is a rhyme that describes this third month something like this; March, lets get back to the fire.

And that is indeed my favorite spot currently. In fact that is where I am sitting right now, typing away.

Our house came with a wood-burning stove. Even though it can by no means match the beauty of my old fireplace in the white house on the hill, it does what it is suppose to do - it creates a cozy, warm spot in our living room. Equipped with a glass door, it enables me to watch the fire. I love everything about it - the scent, the sound and the hypnotic dance of the flames that so easily make my mind travel in time and space.
This feature is one of the reasons why I fell for our house at first sight.

Beam Of Morning Sun

There is yet another illumination defining my perception currently; the increasing daylight.
The light - whether it is the lack or abundance of it - is my infinite fascination with the European North. I love the incredible shifts that the seasons here provide. The winter and the summer differ about eleven hours when it comes to light - and we are only in southern Scandinavia.
Our home does not have any spectacular views of either sunrises or sunsets, still the bay windows of the north facing kitchen can offer alluring morning views. Recently, during a winter dawn, the young sun emitted a beam of light, shooting straight up across the purple sky like a solar laser, creating an unforgettable moment.

View Into Our Living-room

The house is starting to look like a home. It is amusing to watch my belongings emerge from all the boxes, being mixed with my husbands possessions. I have not seen my things for the past year and a half and it is infinitely exciting to realize that our items fit together so very well and that we both have similar taste in interior design.

Sometimes I have to smile when I think about how one single decision, the one that I took against all odds and the one that made my family and friends question my sanity - took me here. Today no one any longer doubt my abilities to choose, even if it took me a while to get my choices right.

My phone chimes as a text message arrives from my stepdaughter. She is out with her friends and I am sitting here, in the warmth of the flickering fire, waiting for her to come home safely.
She is my responsibility today, as are the boys, while their father is once again away through work, an occurrence I am slowly getting accustomed to.
Her text is full of affectionate words that touch me almost to tears...

I experience a momentary flashback to when I was a teenager and my own mom was waiting for me and my sister, to come home from a dance, or a party.
My husband's daughter is as carefree as I was then and I am as worried sick, as my mother was.

Text From My Stepdaughter

It is not easy to be a step mom and half of the time I have no idea what I am doing. I move constantly in an uncharted territory, being thrown into a substitute parenthood of three teenagers, who two years ago did not even know I existed. I find it difficult at times to relate to my role - I am not their mother, nor will I ever be, yet I participate more than just a friend in their life.
Furthermore I missed out on their early years, I never seen them as babies or children and just jumped into a life in progress - I do not know the first thing about raising kids, least of all teenagers.
In the end of the day though all I can do is to trust that my love and good intentions are enough... The touching words in my stepdaughters message are at least a good indication that I am on the right track.

A log falls over in the fire and Sammy shifts in the chair opposite me.
All of the Sammy (aka Batcat) fans will be happy to learn that my feline companion is doing superb. He survived the move without any problems. The initial shock of the relocation lasted only a couple of hours and already on the first day, Sammy happily roamed the house, searching for his new favorite spot.
On sunny days he can be exclusively found napping inside one of our southbound windows. Watching him sleep this way is extremely soothing, as no one can relax and enjoy life as the felines can.
One day I hope he will let me in on his secret.

Our "Sammy boy"

Sneak Previews.

Views during my current drive

We are about to enter the first spring month, yet I have absolutely no idea what happened to February. It came and went.
As it slowly concludes this week, the sense of spring hangs unmistakably in the air.
Winter is far from done, still I love those covert sneak previews of what is yet to come.

The first thing I noticed as I set out on my long daily commute this past Monday, after almost fourteen days break - was the increase in light.
Our day has gained over three hours since the winter-solstice, a fact that can clearly be perceived during my drive. It's onset is by now undertaken no longer under the veil of darkens, but with views of breathtaking sunsets, which slowly grow into rainbow coloured skies, turning only to dusk as I arrive at my destination. Additionally, this past week the evening twilight was dispersed by an alluring full moon rise and the silver disc accompanied me all the way home, illuminating the road with its platinum shine.

Detail from our Garden

I love this time of the year, when a certain awakening is about to commence and a hidden joy rises in nature.
This spring once again, a novel environment awaits to make my acquaintance. The garden of our new home is currently tranquil and it comes across as an undiscovered treasure. Having had to leave it almost immediately after our move, it took me almost two weeks before I actually stepped out onto the lawn and took a walk around our house.

As I did so, momentarily I recollected my father, many years back, as he walked out barefoot onto the small yard of my parents first house, in midwinter, just to feel the ground beneath his feet. I recall he was overwhelmed by the feeling of ownership.
I felt the same giddy feeling and additionally I felt as I was about to walk into a secret, locked room, only it was on the outside. Walking about, I rediscovered my old pots left on the side of the house by the movers, surveyed the empty greenhouse, the shed and the multitude of bushes, shrubs and trees I yet have to name. Coming full circle into our garage, where my husband was sorting through the many boxes still waiting to be unpacked, I had to share with him my first impressions after surveying our property. He smiled and put his arm around my shoulders, looking at me with those hypnotic grey-blue eyes that always seem to disarm me. "This will be good..." he said as he kissed me and I felt happiness envelop me like a warm blanket.

The Garage

I love him endlessly and forever.
I love him despite the fact that the last three weeks saw us arguing more then during the whole time we have known each other. Being pushed to our limits, first with an endless move followed by a vacation that was anything but relaxing, we met each others dark sides, those that crawl out of the woodwork when going gets tough. It truly put our affection for each other to the test, but overall I think we passed with flying colours. Being able to laugh and joke about our disputes after they have passed and realizing that the best place to fall asleep is still in each other arms, we know we are exactly where we are suppose to be.

Giving you a sneak preview of my new home, I can conclude that it often reminds me of my old white house on the hill. It lacks the stunning views, yet I find myself smiling constantly as I come across something that brings back memories of my past residence. Even the kitchen sink is identical.
Just as much as I loved my white house, I am in love with our new house and I will only grow to love it more with time.
I love that it feels like our home. I love the way we spend our days trying to decorate the space slowly and respectfully, combining our belongings, making them fit together. Surprisingly, they do fit very well.
I love the vaulted ceilings, large windows and open rooms, which are nevertheless designed to create cozy and intimate spots, such as around the wood burning stove, gathering a family together. I relish in the luxurious inventory, the large walk in closet, the combined pantry - wine cellar, the modern materials and the privilege of two large bathrooms, having no longer a need to rise an hour earlier to enjoy a morning bath.

Old pot in the greenhouse

I have waited a long time, much longer than most people do, to experience certain golden, defying moments in life. Instead, they all happened quickly, leaving me a bit bewildered at times.
In a very short time span I found the love of my life and relocated, very soon thereafter I became a wife and a step mom, a landlord, a property owner and furthermore, I am about to change employment.

While I have enjoyed this roller-coaster ride, at times I am almost waiting to exhale, exhausted and tired, holding my breath, bracing myself for all that is still ahead.
But I guess that is life and as I learn to roll with the punches, passing the points of no return, there is a certain exhilaration in all this accomplishment.
There is a sense of being alive.

The Three Things I Own.

Elizabeth and Me, in 2011

The allures of my blogging experience are many, but by far the most rewarding one is the multitude of friends I have made over the years.
Some of them I have never met in person and yet we have shared the good and the bad through the tides of time. I take part in their life as much they take part in mine, making me smile, cry and contemplate.

One of the absolutely profound and substantial connections I have made here have been with a Dutch Lady - a truly empathetic, poetic and gentle soul. An artist at heart, inspiring and passionate, she writes a lovely blog called Landanna.
Just like me, she is a foreigner in Denmark and have been my greatest confidant through the most intense and defining time of my life.
Although we only met once, the aura of that meeting will always illuminate my recollection.

Being busy moving to a new home this week, unable to update my online diary, I have invited Elizabeth to be my guest-blogger, to which she kindly agreed.
I hope you will enjoy her candid and poignant writing as much as I do.

Thank you Elizabeth for being you.

The Three Things I Own 
by Elizabeth at Landanna

A few weeks back my "little sister" asked if I was willing to write a guestpost for her since she was so busy with the move to her new home.
What other reply than yes could I give to my dear friend and partner in non-crime and silliness.

Sletterhage Lighthouse

Let me give you a glimpse of our friendship.
In October 2009, Zuzana and I met through her post about Sletterhage fyr, a lighthouse that has a special place in my heart.
Thus this whirlwind of kindness started to visit my blog - very soon we became friends and started writing each other daily.

Some days just some scribbles.
Other days the mails consist out of smileys, when we act more like teenage girls than back in the days when we were teenage girls. In a number of mails we gave each other a written handkerchief to dry our tears or make each other dance in front of the computer to the latest music of our heart. And then there were these discussions in which she did her best to persuade me to blog about that particular subject.
All of this without ever meeting - yes it took us three years before we finally took that step. Still, I have very fond memories of meeting my "Sweety" and her husband-to-be.

One of our favorite discussions was about The Three Things I Own, a piece I wrote a long time ago, but which somehow stayed with me.

"Leaf In The Wind"

The first one is my soul, the energy that makes me who I am, the energy that communicates with my environment, the energy that gives me the possibility of sharing my love with the world.

The second one, which is also my very own, is my body.
My body, the house of my soul, the storage place of my memories, the workshop of my talents, the only piece of my ownership that is palpable. My body is the first merit I am judged upon by others, since that is the first thing they lay their eyes upon.

The third piece I own is time.
This commodity is one everybody has, but no one knows how much time they have on this planet. Each minute can be our last one and still we feel immortal. How we spend our time is very important, not to reach the highest economical goal but the most fulfillment for ones soul.

"Changing The Landscape"

Our inability to survive on our own and the need to define ourselves makes us want to belong to a group of people with similar traits. If we don't find such a group, feelings of vulnerability emerge. Does this mean that if you find a group your worries are over? No, groups and their agendas change constantly, adjustments are needed, just to keep on fitting in. Still, each person we meet might be a teacher we are in need of. He or she tells us something, or makes different choices and the way we view this gift defines who we are.
Finding out what we need/want - but most of all what is uniquely ours to give to the world - is the journey through life.

Normally I'm not one that writes lengthy posts, since I'd rather tell my stories by holding my needle. I nevertheless hope you enjoyed yourself while I took you on a sailing trip through our friendship and Landanna.
Next week my little sister will be writing again despite of all the boxes she still undoubtedly needs to unpack.

Good luck Sweety!
All my love your big sis. e.

"Courtship, For The Love Of It"

Natural Scenes

Note: Images throughout this post (except the first two) depict Elizabeth's art and her photography.

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

What's Another Year...

Returning from my extended absence, I find it somewhat difficult to adequately begin the very first post of this year.
I have drafted so many over the course of the Holidays, yet finding no opportunity to polish my writing into an acceptable format due to lack of time, it slowly became outdated and obsolete.
Additionally, I am experiencing an unexpected decline in my language skills. Despite the fact that I can express myself in five languages, English has until now been without a doubt the one I master the best - I can speak it fluently, write it with ease and I can use it to convey all aspects of life - both personal and professional.

I became proficient at speaking English during my years in the US and continued to excel in it while conversing on every day bases with the Irishman.
Today however he is long gone from my life and instead I find myself talking exclusively in Danish with my husband, my extended family and the kids. Slowly I begin lacking words and writing has become cumbersome, as a new vocabulary takes over my thinking.

It is odd, being in this linguistic no man's land, even though I have tried it numerous times before. Yet in my adult years I no longer posses the brilliance and speed of a young mind. Thus eventually, I can never fully master the novel tongue, while the old slowly begins to disappear into a vocabulary abeyance.
Being multilingual is a blessing and a curse.

Still, my love for writing is always there, simmering in the background. I thoroughly enjoy putting down my thoughts into words, documenting my life in the process, even though very little life altering wisdom can be perceived in my reflections these days.
Today I do more living than thinking.

Thus as the two faced God Janus once again seizes the reign over our world, I wonder what is in store for me as I set out onto a novel voyage through another set of pristine twelve months. Looking ahead, there is so much anticipation; a new home, perhaps a new job. The future seems undefined and adventurous.

Yet simultaneously, it comes across as unsettling.

By the time summer reaches its peak, I will once again see the love of my life temporary leaving me. Having tried it before, I know what to expect - many sleepless nights, torment, anguish and longing. Even though our forthcoming separation might be nothing like the last one, I brace myself for the hardship of yet another set of four months without him by my side, while I will try to find the courage deep within to be the woman he needs me to be, allowing him to fully concentrate on what he has been trained to do.
Having lived on my own more than half a life time I have no problems with solitude. In fact, I am very peculiar about the people I associate with and I rather be alone than in crowds.
With this said though, never before have I had such a desire to constantly crave the company of another human being, as I do my husband's. I covet his close proximity, his touch and caress. I miss him intensely even when we are apart for a day.  
"You're different with him. He moves, you move. Like magnets..." - an excerpt from a dialogue in the Twilight Saga series, no other set of words could more adequately describe my own romance.

Looking back, I conclude that so many years in my past have come and gone, melting together into this undefinable span of time, vanishing into oblivion. I like to believe that these were not wasted, but served a purpose in their own right, becoming an intermission in my life, when days progress in slow pace and when my being did strive to renew itself, while in pursuit of my dreams.
I carry a few such years in my suitcase and will without any doubt encounter these in my future.

Yet I also carry the memories of years that defined me, changing the course of my personal history, compelling me to set out onto epic journeys. These did not always end well, yet they were full of adventures and paramount progress. I feel that a lifespan that alternates the period of action with period of leisure and lethargy, is full and complete.

As I so perceptively perceived a couple of years ago, the period of the latest stagnation has passed and I have entered my personal golden age.
When - if - I once get the privilege to look back upon this part of my life, I will always remember it as one of the happiest. It will go down in my recollection as the most intense and vibrant.
I will always view it as the onset of my very own 'Age Of Aquarius'.

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.

November Noir.

Fall is slowly concluding and the fiery glow of the ostentatious season is now only a memory. Instead, the outlines of trees stand naked, dark and ominous against a milky sky, their branches damp and still, resembling almost menacing silhouettes.
The remains of foliage and long gone bloom turns putrefied, instigating a sense of decay.

Late fall melancholy is by now truly apparent. To me it comes across as an intermission, a moment of stillness and tranquility that stands between the flamboyance of colours and the illumination of the Holiday Season.

I have been somewhat absent, in my writing and in my on-line life, for which I apologize. I do still ponder the bigger questions and I do still notice the enchantment around me, I only need more time to convey it in words and pictures to all of you you.
There are continuously issues that occupy my thinking, such as the fact that I find myself increasingly disenchanted with my line of work, a sensation that started a couple of years back and which only grows in intensity by each passing day.
I find this puzzling - that which once defined me and brought me happiness feels now as a burden and has lost its allure all together.

Is it midlife crises, I wonder, or is it I who have changed...
I feel a deep longing to realize old dreams, using my creative abilities, devoting what remains of my working life to an occupation that is novel and better suited the new me.
Curiously, life never works fully on all levels - if it did, I guess we would be done living it.

My reality evolves constantly and for someone who has lived by predictable routines for decades, I find the ongoing growth curiously reassuring. My husband's children are spending increasing amount of time with us, which changes the dynamic of our lives. It is a challenge on all levels, as I am thrown into parenthood of three teenagers, having never hold them in my arms as babies. Trying to be their friend and guardian and yet at the same time guiding them with gentle but firm rules as a stepmother is a balancing act of a novel kind. Yet as I refine my skills, the rewards are of indescribable measures - they are the children I will never have and their love and devotion surpasses all my expectations.

A move to a new house is now slowly becoming reality and soon we will be finally having a home of our very own where we can live as a family, with a sense of privacy and safe continuity. Thus as I look out onto our misty garden, I wonder whether this is the last November noir I am witnessing outside my windows in this old house. So much emotions and changes has undergone between its walls in such a short time. I know I will miss it in a certain way...

Nature is indeed winding down. It is entering a deep sleep, discarding the old and shriveled, renewing itself from within, in order to emerge reborn and revitalized a few months down the road.
This is a contagious rejuvenation, that applies to everything living, us humans too. Most likely when winter turns into spring, my own life will be reborn in a new place.

Late fall is in my perception always defined by one single masterpiece; Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21.
Thus when I look into the mist, I can hear piano and strings of violins, giving the melancholy of November a truly poetic, symbolic and almost meditative feel.

Fallen Angels.

Sitting in our kitchen, I watch the birth of a new day, knowing that the pink horizon will very soon burst into a glow of light.

We are way past mid-fall and nature is at its flamboyant best, the turning foliage shinning bright in the light of the first sun rays.
The ultimate showdown in colours is in my part of the world intense and fleeting. Yet every few years the display is simply more vibrant. This autumn thus falls into that category and currently my commute to work is undertaken through painted landscape. The views passing my windows outdo each other in brilliance and parade by in nuances of fire, copper and gold.

I am alone again, facing two weeks of solitude. My husband is in sunny California, refurbishing his skydiving skills as a part of his occupation.
His absence comes across as a doubled-edged sword.

On one hand it is a welcomed intermission from my novel life. That busy, messy, hectic, disorganized and unplanned yet so life-affirming and joyful existence that I have grown to love. Knowing this seclusion is only temporary, I find my alone time highly revitalizing.

With this said though, I dislike to be separated from my husband. I absolutely love to be in his presence and when he is not by my side, my world crumbles. Additionally, as much as his skills and his profession fascinate me and carry a great deal of appeal, attraction and pride in my eyes, they also give rise to a constant concern and worries, causing me to succumb to moments of distress and even occasional panic.
This is an area of my reality I still need to work plenty on, trying to learn to accept that which I can not change, facing the unknown with courage and being the strong woman my man deserves by his side.

Thus trying to pass the time - and actually enjoying to be having enough of it for once - I do what what makes me happy. I again find my solace in nature, photographing the flamboyant fall beauty that surrounds me, while I write down my thoughts and impressions fueled by my solitude. I finally also have the opportunity to compile the multitude of images that I have accumulated over the past months, spending hours cataloging these, creating photo books and calendars, the Christmas gifts that my family - near and extended - love to receive.

Among my many photographs are hundreds of macro images of fuchsias, captured recently in the garden of my father in law. These enchanting plants are his passion and pride, adoring his property in hanging baskets or in pots, creating oases of stunning beauty.

At extreme close up, the dazzling flowers of the plant resemble small, fragile dancing ballerinas, swaying in the air, flaunting their multicoloured, ravishing dresses. The texture of the blossom comes across as almost textile - soft velvet and silk.

While immortalizing these delicate creations of nature, I noticed that some of the blossom has fallen to the ground. Upon closer look, mesmerizing artwork unfolded in my view and my camera lens. The flowers fell randomly, yet their positions felt prearranged, as if an unseen artist walked there before me. Resembling fallen angels, sleeping among autumn leaves and moss, their colours only intensified against the earthy canvas, creating masterpieces of epic proportions.

Just like in life, the most enchanting beauty is hidden from view, only to be discovered if we look deeper, look closer, look from a different angle and look differently.