Monday, 7:31 a.m. The spring sunshine is already warming the front rooms of the house and I awoke to the singing of birds again. I have a million plans of how to spend the morning, but what is feasible? Digging up soil for transplanted raspberries maybe unfitting labour for a woman who is now two days overdue. (Wouldn't be a major except for Småland's incredibly rocky soil -- digging usually means building a stone cairn beside your flower or vegetable garden.) The bathroom also needs to be cleaned, but that would be a terrible waste of a beautiful spring morning.
Had a really relaxed and enjoyable weekend filled with things that I love. We had Martin's parents for dinner Friday -- the coziness of spending relaxed time with family over the dinner table and my mom's recipe for lasagna. Martin and I managed to squeeze in some secondhand shopping on Saturday, finding a beautiful, well-constructed, unique rocking chair that has a certain character, even amongst beautiful Swedish rocking chairs. Baby Asparagus will hopefully enjoy being rocked to sleep in it.
Sunday we took a drive to the neighboring village of Skirö, enjoying the hilltop fields and fantastic display of human effort, the classic Småland stone wall. I have said it before but these walls, although picturesque and amazing to behold, are symbols of a nation's sufferings. The sheer magnitude of clearing fields of these massive stones, hauling them, and constructing them into kilometer-long, meter-wide and high walls seems unbelievable. There is no doubt that Swedish farmers were/are amongst the hardiest and most determined in the world.
Our ultimate destination was a cafe and boutique, set off in the "boonies" and run by a bosomy, warm woman who I want to be hugged by. She bakes in her kitchen set off the little shop, and brought us tea and raspberry soda, with soft nut torte and lemon cake. A really lovely way to spend the afternoon.
Sunday night we watched a moving and sobering film set in Rwanda in the 1990's, Shooting Dogs. This is one worth watching, not exploiting the brutality and violence people suffered, but still depicting it's horror. It tells the story of a faithful priest, and reflects the profound and inexplicable love of God in an unimaginable situation. It was filmed in Rwanda in the places it portrays and involved of many survivors of the genocide. Wikipedia: Shooting Dogs
Now, 8:01, and my breakfast-hunger is becoming urgent. What will be brought about this week? I was saying to Martin the other night that each day feels as though we are on the cusp of historical change -- our lives will be unimaginably altered with the birth of our child. And yet, every day is like that. The significance usually escapes me -- how each action and word is driving us on a course of change and the inability to go backwards.
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