Flashback Friday: "The NeverEnding Story".

Today I dedicate my Flashback Friday compilation to my sister for her birthday. Thus I am taking you way back to the mid eighties, when wild hair ruled the fashion and pleasant melodies the ether.

I decided to revisit the main theme song from a famous cinematographic masterpiece of a fairytale. Entitled "The NeverEnding Story", the main track with the same name is performed by Limahl. It received constant airplay in 1984, topping the charts all over Europe. Even today those pristine harmonies take me way back to my late teens, when my sister was my greatest confidant and my best friend. When everything was still new and fresh, magical and fairy-tale like and we were ready to conquer the world.

Happy Birthday to my little sister and Happy Friday to all of you.

The Christmas Truce.

In my part of the world, the Remembrance/Veteran Day is not observed. Considering that I have made so many friends here that do commemorate this special day, it feels appropriate to dedicate a post to this subject.

This day in history, the 11th of November, marked the end of the first World War in 1918. Growing up in Eastern Bloc, the facts and traces of both World Wars were ever so present through out my childhood. In fact, my grandfather -my fathers father- witnessed the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria on 28 June 1914 in Bosnia-Herzegovina, an event that started the WWI.

Wars are filled with horrors and unimaginable atrocities, showing mankind from it's worst side. However, in parallel, they also produce unsung heroes and bring out the best in people, often highlighting that ultimately we are all the same. Thus raising the irony in the whole purpose of the battles.
I have always felt strong empathy for the ordinary people involved in wars. Those nameless soldiers, that no one knows about. That no one ever writes about. In every war, there is immense suffering of the common man - from any country, on any side - that only does his duty and knows nothing of politics and the struggle for power and land, that is the elusive cause of the war he is fighting.

In history of the first world war, the notion of a particular event has effected me deeply; the occurrence of the so called Christmas Truce. The term describes brief unofficial cease of fights, taking place on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day between German and British or French troops in World War I, particularly that between British and German troops stationed along the Western Front during Christmas 1914.

As quoted from the Wikipedia:

"The truce began on Christmas Eve, 24 December 1914, when German troops began decorating the area around their trenches in the region of Ypres, Belgium, for Christmas. They began by placing candles on trees, then continued the celebration by singing Christmas carols, most notably Stille Nacht (Silent Night). The British troops in the trenches across from them responded by singing English carols.

The two sides continued by shouting Christmas greetings to each other. Soon thereafter, there were calls for visits across the "No Man's Land" where small gifts were exchanged — whiskey, jam, cigars, chocolate, and the like. The soldiers exchanged gifts, sometimes addresses, and drank together. The artillery in the region fell silent that night. The truce also allowed a breathing spell where recently-fallen soldiers could be brought back behind their lines by burial parties. Proper burials took place as soldiers from both sides mourned the dead together and paid their respects.

The truce spread to other areas of the lines, and there are many stories of football matches between the opposing forces.

In many sectors, the truce lasted through Christmas night, but in some areas, it continued until New Year's Day."

One Year Old.

I have a reason to be slightly contemplative on this day, as a year ago exactly today I sat down to write my very first post.

In March 2008, I was searching the web for information about a painting that has managed to entice me and captivate me, like no other artwork. Called "The Meeting On Turret Stairs", it was painted by Sir Fredrick William Burton in 1864. The search brought me to a wonderful blog, written by the lovely Blog Princess G. Upon her encouragement and suggestion, I took a decision to write my first post some months later.

The experience to write a daily blog has turned out quiet differently from what I though it would be. I did not expect much, in fact, I expected nothing. Just a year ago I knew what a blog was, however I thought it would take a professional to write such a journal online. The few blogs I have read by then were either written by freelance journalists or novelists or other kind of professionals with a schooling in writing. I was neither. The idea or a notion of me writing down my ideas, my private thoughts and personal opinions and then sharing them with complete strangers appeared completely absurd to me then.

But I have been enjoying it incredibly.

A whole new world has emerged in front of my eyes, filled with talented people, from all across the world. Every day, they allow me the privilege to have an insight into their every day lives, sharing moments of happiness and sadness, trouble and joy.
At all times, the far corners of the globe lie at my finger tips and a few key strokes have taken me to places I could never have visited physically. It is an incredible experience to read about the reality of people, who live ordinary lives, yet make them seem so very extraordinary at all times, with eloquence of words and beauty of pictures.

I would very much like to thank ALL of you, too many to mention, who have found it worth your while to pay me your visits; whether it is once or regularly; they are all appreciated. Even if writing in itself is an absolute pleasure for me, no matter if my words are read by others or not, it makes it so much more rewarding having someone to take notice of the little things I have to say. I find incredible satisfaction in the feeling of having strung a chord with something that I have written or with the pictures that I have posted. Simply finding a kindred spirit once in while in opinions and in taste can make my day. If only one post has spoken to someone out there, even if for just a moment in time, then this year of writing has not been in vain.

Finally, I have decided to alter slightly the name of my blog. When I started, I had no idea what it would turn out to be. I gave it title without much contemplation and feel that now perhaps it is time for a change.

I write mainly about my life, and the way I see, perceive and experience it and have in the past, with all its magic, natural splendor and the beauty of simple pleasures.
I feel "Life Through Reflections" is a title better suited for this blog and what it has become over the year.

Welcome to another year with my "Life Through Reflections".

Mandevilla Trellis.

A few days ago I purchased a new plant and I simply love it. It is a a climbing flower, resembling a vine with deep red flowers. Named Mandevilla, it seems to be sturdy and the blooms are abundant. It is always exciting with a new "living" addition to the household. I have placed it next to my entrance door, in a azure blue pot. It seems to thrive and makes the entrance look inviting.
Today is my fathers birthday; it has been many years since I have had the privilege to celebrate both my parents birthdays in their company. I am trying to enjoy the precious time we have together as much as I can.

I hope everyone is having a splendid Saturday.:)

Last Sunday In July.

Yesterday my parents arrived for a two weeks stay. I am delighted to get a chance to spend an extended time with them. As my loved ones are spread all over Europe, it is always a treat when any of them comes for a visit.

The weather continues to be awful, although the sun has come up and is trying to defy the clouds occasionally.
It is my mothers birthday today and I guess the Weather Gods have taken pity on her. She, if anyone, deserves sunshine. Plenty of it.

Below is my weekly clematis update. I think this update is about to conclude, I am afraid. The rain has slowed down the progress and the blooming is about to peak.
There are still a few unopened buds, so perhaps there is one more final update in store comes next Sunday.
Last week I cut down the Lemon Balm that has been over growing its pot for weeks now, which has cleared some of the clematis view. The Lemon Balm is a wonderful herb, spreading citrus scent when touched. It grows very fast and very easily and is perfect as a decoration in a sparkling wine summer drink or on top of ice cream.

Due to my visitors, my responses to your lovely comments might be somewhat delayed for the next two weeks; as will be my visits to your lovely blogs. I will definitely continue posting, but forgive me if it takes me some time to get back to all of you.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful last Sunday in July.

(PS: The top picture features a magenta coloured Dahlia, a little treat for sallymandy)

My Day.

Today is a day that leaves me very happy, but also in some way brings on a sense of melancholy over the fact that time waits for no one. It is my birthday, as very obvious from the picture of a badge that I have received from the Irishman.

I am a summer child and as such I love summers endlessly. Already in my youth I enjoyed celebrating my day during this season, as almost at all times it was celebrated on our family vacation, in exotic and interesting places. I loved when I opened my eyes in the morning knowing that today everyone would be paying attention to just me and anything was possible. I looked forward to ice cream, sun and the sea and of course, many presents as well.

Today, this day passes in a much serene way and even though I do not like to think of how old I am anymore, I still enjoy the fact that I get the privilege to be here. To be in good health and to still have so much to look forward to.

Below is a picture taken by my grandfather, my fathers father, on my third birthday in 1970. Although I do not remember this day, I recall very much the spot where it was taken. I am sitting in our summer cottage with my father, looking out through the windows. I love old photographs like these as they remind me of the fact, that no matter how fast I think the years have gone by, when I gaze at that little girl in the picture, I know a lot of time has indeed passed and a lot of adventures have indeed been experienced by me since.

Despite the wrinkles and despite the limitation age brings, I still like to believe that the best is yet to come.

The Season Of The Rhododendrons.

I am sitting outside while I type today's blog post and again this makes me marvel over the modern technology.
Today is what we might call a typical late spring day here in Scandinavia; westerly wind, blue skies filled with occasionally fluffy white clouds, which however bring chills if they cover the sun.

Today is also my nephews birthday, he will be seven years old. I recall it as it was yesterday when I boarded the train to take me to Switzerland in order to be there for my sister, when she was about to welcome the first grandchild of the family to the world.
He was born in late May, which is also the season of the blooming rhododendrons. These magnificent bushes explode with flowers almost over night. I am lucky to have a beautiful plant just outside my kitchen windows. During late May, every morning it offers me a view bursting with purple colours.

Easter Thursday And A Birthday.

Today is Easter Thursday, also called Holy Thursday.

Coincidentally, today is also my little sisters birthday.

My sister used to be my best friend, my confidant and my true partner in crime. As children, we behaved the way sisters do. We played a lot and we fought a lot, usually over truly insignificant things, which however seemed so very important to us at the time.

Growing older, a fervent bond developed between us, as a result of our family's emigration to the west. We became best buddies, sharing secrets and confiding in each other with our troubles, relying on and finding strength in one another, when the rest of the world seemed alien and hostile. I recall as if it was yesterday, when upon our return from school each day, we would be sitting in the kitchen or in one of our rooms, having a snack, talking the afternoons away. Funny, I never realized then how precious those few hours would once become and how I would miss them.

But time waits for no one and one day, I left my sister behind when I moved thousands of miles across the ocean, to another continent. After that, our lives took us in different directions and as adults we were never to live in the same country again.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to the wide eyed, cute, sensitive little girl that I so instinctively tried to protect at all times. Whose hand I automatically reached for (and did so until our late teens to her aggravation) as soon as we were crossing a road. The one who used to come to me for help with her homework, who used to look up to me and who used to ask me for advice. She is no longer there. Instead I see an independent, strong, capable woman, loving wife and a devoted mother.

Today is a very significant birthday for her, as it is the last one in a given decade. It is indeed strange to part with that one number, almost a familiar friend, that has been around for 10 years. For a brief - and not so brief - moment, it can evoke feelings of bittersweet melancholy over getting older.

But then we drink some cheap Champagne, shed a tear and smile a smile, while we say good bye to the decade that treated us well. And then finally we conclude the one and only truth; that age is after all only a number.

Therefore my little sister, I promise you, it is a piece of cake. Enjoy your last "you know what" something and believe me when I say;
'The best is yet to come'.
Congratulations!