Snapshots With Words

I am sitting here. Again, in the dim light of an afternoon, while my now two and a half year old son is sleeping in the next room. Normally I love the light. The more natural lighting, the better. But ever since my son was born, many of my most peaceful and quiet moments have taken place in darkness, so he can sleep peacefully, and as early as possible. The latter of course is for both his benefit and mine. Sleep breeds sleep, so "they" say, and it is so important for the development of busy young brains that are learning about everything in the world around them. For parents, sleeping children also offer succor and relief that is much needed. The physical need to write comes to me as I awaken to find that my landscape has changed dramatically. Places have changed, players have been added, and roles of some players have altered. Truths about myself have come to light, some good and some not so good. I don't know what I need to say, but I need to write. I need to

In Sweden, as in many other countries in Europe, Christmas is celebrated on the 24th, or Christmas Eve. So the day of (the 25th) is rather quiet and although it is not a day of celebration, most shops and things are closed. That is perfectly fine. Now, the day AFTER Christmas (26th) is a bit rough, because on this day things are still not up and running. Of course you have everything (almost everything) that you need at the local grocery store, but it feels just a bit odd to have a sort of day after (25th) the day after (26th) kind of pause. Especially if you have chosen to stay in town for the holidays. And this particular year that is 2018, the day before the Eve, or if you prefer, the day before (23rd) the day before (24th) Christmas day (the 25th, even though it sort of is the 24th), many important shops were also closed. So we really have had a sort of 23, 24, 25, 26 type of holiday-not-holiday this year and it feels a bit odd and in this particular post, a little bit like math. B

I love this shot I captured the other day with my "camera phone" (Brooklyn 99, Greg Holt). When we were preparing to leave Graz with our baby boy who was just a few months old, I read this article about how you should move to Sweden if you want to move to the future. (I did a quick Google search right now and did not come up with the same article). This picture basically embodies the "Dreaded" version of the future in my mind; the one where colors have ceased to exist because the soil is no longer fertile, and the concrete jungle looms over everything. And yet I find the lines and the light exquisite and not at all dreadful. The light on this particular day was what made me look up and see the birds perched by the window. I had never noticed this building before. We have now lived in Gothenburg for one year and some weeks, and I've walked by the building in that picture probably hundreds of times on my way to buy baby diapers and formula. Never stopping to

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