ages

It has been some time since I have thought of writing. I have been occupied with other things: painting, gardening, watching the Olympics (which I have really never done before), shopping, reading, lying in the hammock in our backyard and staring up through the trees to blue sky and sun. It seems in one fell swoop my world has become large and free and unhindered, yet terribly small and sometimes a bit lonely. It's all very normal, I am assured, this up-down crash of longing for home and familiarity, but then I am perfectly content, and that assurance makes me grateful.

I took a few minutes respite in our hammock yesterday, and was startled alert by a sharp, strong knocking that I could feel right through the hammock. I was confused until I looked up and there was a woodpecker, hammering the tree about the hammock. He ( I am almost certain it was a he) had a red cap and red lower chest, and black and white all over. I watched for nearly 10 minutes as he hopped from tree to tree pecking and testing for I do not know what. Just a few minutes watching him and the melancholy I was feeling passed.

The country life is quite delightful, I must say. A little ways up our road and the houses end, and the thick forest cuts to farm fields that must be quite ancient, lined with moss-covered stone fences and dotted with red and white farm buildings. The road officially ends in a clusters of rural homes, but our neighbour assured us that there is a little-travelled road that continues on. I am itching to explore. We definitely need to purchase another bike, as we have an older one for Martin but I need one in order that we can do further exploration on wheels. 

blogs are for blogging

So we do not (and won't for a while) have Internet or phone, because of due process and usual beaurocracy. But it makes life simple and kind of nice in way, living in the countryside feeling a little bit disconnected. We are driving to my parents-in-law (thank-you Janne and Lisbeth!) and using their phone and Internet and indulging in divine baked goods. We are eating way too much brea but I can't stop because it's so good. And cheese! Oh, ost! It's also divine, and much less expensive here. We bought a massive hunk of my favourite German cheese here and it' so tempting in the fridge, all yellow and filled with delicious milkfat.

The sun has treated us this morning, shining on our breakfast table, and the bees are still absolutely loving the lavender growing by our front step. The nights are dark and quiet, and the other night driving home in the rain we came across a red fox, oblivous to the car crossing it's path until Martin stopped and flashed the high beams. The jolted upright, for seconds transfixed in the beam of light, his body and face completely poised. Then, gone. It had a mystical quality to it...a fox in the rain and fog.

We have salamanders and frogs and one big fat toad in our own backyard, which is lovely as I was informed that frogs and toads live in areas were the ecosystems at a natural rythmn. That's nice to think of, my backyard is nature in balance. This week we stacked firewood for our fireplace, and I felt so removed from living in a city of a million people. I haven't stacked firewood since childhood (and I doubt I really helped much then). I remember that my dad was magnificent with a chainsaw, and I wonder how I will be with an axe, not having used one much in the past decade. I would be quite scary with a chainsaw, I don't think Martin would ever let me have one. I might saw something down just for the heck of it.

So, I have blogged, but cannot say when I will blog again. Please come soon, dead Internet provider, because I only like to be disconnected in the woods for so long.

light my fire

Spent the afternoon at a beautiful lake along with sun-worshipping Swedes, and it was quite enjoyable. It was an excellent way to relax after working in our yard mowing, pulling weeds, and raking in the hot summer weather. There were numerous amusing and interesting things I wanted to write about over the course of the last few days, but didn't find the right moment. Here are some:

Amusing: A young guy driving a huge enclosed tractor through downtown Vetlanda on a busy Saturday afternoon, with his girlfriend riding shotgun in his lap. There is a reason why I call Martin the Swedish redneck.

Amusing: At least six young guys in their twenties packed into a new, jacked up Dodge truck, with their shirts off and Euro techno blaring.

Amusing: Clothing stores advertising end of summer sales with the sign, "Slutspurten".

Interesting: People at the lakes here do not seem so concerned about body image. There are people of all ages, sizes, and shapes in bikinis, seeming pretty confident and relaxed. Not like Kelowna or Penticton, thank goodness. I quite enjoyed myself at the lake, when normally I am very uncomfortable in a bikini. I guess a new bikini also helps.

Amusing: "You're breasts are not soggy." Gee, thanks!

tack

It's a Thursday morning and not quite the usual Thursday for me. The mid-morning sun feels unusually hot and I feel like a kid out for summer break, with nothing pressing upon me, no demands or exacting schedule, just the sounds of the bees sipping from the flowers outside the window, and in the distance, a chainsaw working in the forest. My senses feel wide awake with the wonder of sounds and smells I am accustomed to being overpowered and drug under by machinesand people. The richness of cedar and pine forest, insects, birds, or the chuckle of a hedgehog rummaging about. We saw a fat little hedgehog in the evening, trundling to the neighbour's yard. I was surprised at how big he was. Easily a foot long.

This morning's breakfast was barely finished when the airline called to tell us our bags would finally arrive this morning. To say we are grateful is an understatement. Although we mostly remained calm throughout, the edges of panic were starting to creep in at the thought of our luggage being rummaged or lost. Where it could have been for nearly five days we do not know.

The jet-lag is starting to edge off, and I am feeling calm and happy. We arrived in time for the strawberries and raspberries, and blueberries are yet to ripen, and this afternoon we are going berry picking. The yard of our home is even more delightful than I imagined, with strawberries, raspberries, currants, apples, and sour cherries. Every Tuesday there is a market in the square of the nearby city of Vetlanda, and I have heard promise of fresh plums to be bought. I feel slightly intoxicated by the beauty of this place, and the opportunity to live here. Standing outside our house last night with the evening sun piercing through the trees, I wondered if people realized what an idyllic place this is.

There is work to be done, of course, the roof to be replaced, and we have yet to begin painting some of the rooms in need of help. Thankfully the task isn't overhwhelming, just a bit of cosmetics and we'll have it looking quite nice.

Now we are just waiting for our bags to arrive, and with them, my paintbrushes. And underwear.

the dam

The tears have begun and whatever psychological dam I was using to hold them back before now seems to have crumbled. I feel as thought I am partly in an alternate reality where this isn't really happening, and partly feeling the realization of leaving so heavy I can't comprehend it. The thought of not seeing my mom and dad's dear faces and sipping tea around our worn kitchen table, not laughing fits with my brother, or hugging my sister almost chokes me. I have to push those thoughts away because they feel like they could collapse me.

My prayer today is that I can keep it together for my family. I don't want to completely lose it. I have managed to hold myself in check through the process, packing our massive bags ( we bought extra luggage and have about 100 lbs each), running through the checklist, and really, just closing up shop here. The tears come at night, when the wears of the day have set in and I realize I have three, two, one, days left here with my family.

NOw the time has come and we are mostly packed and the sun is shining. I can still drink tea with my parents on the deck and while I am doing it I won't think about leaving, but just enjoying.