Snapshots With Words

Why do I so love winter?  The cold and desolation speak to me and without fail call me out of the house each year on a truly cold day.  I like the muffled sounds of the cold;  when only the brave venture out of doors and the birds don their plush winter layers.  Fog and chimney smoke and the white of my breath dancing all around are intoxicating,  and the air is so refreshing I take satisfying gulps.      My only companions around "Hilmteich" this morning are a couple of dogs in coats with their owners,  and one solitary student wearing shorts and leggings and walking fast in order to stay warm,  be on time for class at the university; or both. She chose a daring outfit for -6° C (21° F) at 7:30 in the morning. When I exited our building this morning to embark on my restless need to escape into nature, I walked right into the busy world of a school morning.  Children getting on and off of the tram and hurrying in their ear muffs to one of Graz

Living in a foreign country has its advantages and disadvantages.  One particularly fun aspect is hunting for foods that remind me of home.  Somehow they just taste that much sweeter for being so elusive.  Here in Graz we have bakeries everywhere, and all of the pastries offered are delicious.  Croissants, chocolate filled and whole wheat variations, Topfentasche which are filled with a fluffier version of cream cheese, and Nuss Schnecke which is the Austrian version of a cinnamon roll.  But we like what we like, and the beauty in the details of life are the scents and sounds and tastes that are linked to our favorite memories of our youth or certain places we've lived and people we have known. You might be wondering how I can write about pastries with all the unrest in the states with the upcoming elections.  I am doing my part to vote from abroad and live well one day at a time, because that is what we are all fighting for the chance to do; live our lives to the fullest.  With

Some might call this evening in the mountains boring, quiet or slow.  For me the opposite is true.  Each sound is so loud it almost hurts my ears: The river rushing relentlessly past, with no break in the momentum; small creatures of the night declaring their existence, and the occasional far off motorized vehicle making its way home or to the gas station for a pack of cigarettes.  From our 8th floor balcony I can hear the occasional family as they walk, bike or drive back to the hotel from town. Summer evenings are enchanted.  The world is at rest, happy and content, with no deadlines or places to be for several hours at least. The river is a paradox of racing, rushing fervor and soothing sounds that have the ability to lull one to sleep.  An organized frenzy of activity that, when observed from a distance creates a sense of peace and clarity.  We can suddenly see the big picture; we know the direction of the current.  And it will continue on to its destination without our help

I sit in the candlelight on a mild summer evening, the sounds of neighbours mingling with the farther off noise of  sporadic traffic on the nighttime streets. The German conversation drifts in amidst laughter while the neighbor below is watching some type of African television show from his home. A slug near my elbow startled me, and I watched him crawl around the candle lantern and slowly and painstakingly off of the table. To think this all began because the cat Misty and I spotted a moth inside the apartment and this was my master plan to lure him back outside where he belongs.

A new way to blog. This is something I wrote last year in my journal. I decided to take pictures and share it this way. In summary, these things make up who we are, and we can remember and cherish and put into perspective both the good, the great, and the "bad."

Dreams can be so vivid.  Sometimes mine are dramatized like a movie, complete with the subtleties of emotionally charged acting and a soundtrack tailored to fit the story and add to feelings of intensity and moments of suspense.  Last night's went something like this... Two companions on a journey through vine filled jungles, along the banks of large bodies of water and up steep mountainous climbs.  The first woman is our point of view and has offered to guide the second woman on this journey to safety.  Risk is uppermost in this story, as the antagonist serves a dark cause and is uncertain whether her guide will lead her back to her people's ship on a far away sea.  But the danger is too great in this unknown part of the world and so the antagonist chooses to trust.  She is an attractive adventurer, with chestnut dreadlocks falling over her shoulders and she is clad in loose fitting clothing of neutral browns and beige. We only see through the eyes of the protagonist but we