hikes with wolves

I went hiking in the forest, alone. 

It was a ridiculously pretty spring day, you know the kind. The sun smiles over quiet little lakes where birds play in the water, blackbirds and robins serenade each other, the cutest little flowers sprout everywhere, an enticing path winds among ancient trees. Not another human being for miles. The breeze in the pines the only background noise.

I spent a good part of the hike worrying. Mostly about being eaten. I made a mental list of dangerous beasts I was most likely to encounter. Bear, extremely unlikely. Wolf, highly unlikely but not out of the question. Elk, quite possibly, but not likely to eat me. Adder, fairly possible and likely to at least take a bite out of me.

I had almost convinced myself to stop worrying and just enjoy the day when I heard, at a distance, a wolf pack howling. Seriously, a wolf pack. 

Or a bunch of huskies in the nearest village, I told myself hastily. It's just that, according to the map, there was only deep forest in the direction of the noise. I have never seen a wolf in the wild, but some people around here have. Nobody seems to ever hear them howl.

I froze. Considered the likelihood of being eaten again. Then I realised I had suddenly stopped worrying. I was absolutely, overwhelmingly thrilled by the fact that I was - just maybe - listening to ... wild wolves howling.

song is the theme of the month

May projects: take hundreds of walks in the woods, smell the flowers, sing with the birds, sing with a choir, watch Eurovision Song Contest, throw a party, go to one of my favourite cities, go to my favourite cabin in the woods, try to postpone my usual summer breakdown.

give my inner child a sugar-free morceau de gâteau

April projects: enjoy Easter, spend no money at all, learn French, let go of worrying, do fun stuff (without spending money), deal with my inner child, celebrate my birthday, get serious about sugar, buy a laptop (preferably without spending money).

Piece of cake. (For my birthday - not sugarfree!)

final report from winter 2025

Mild winter, extreme translation-related stress, course weekends, a gleaming Christmas with a fragrant Christmas tree, lots of time curled up with a book, existential anxiety, choir practice, eight-hour industry work weeks, kind-of poverty.

New experiences: an overnight stay alone in an empty hotel in a blizzard, distributing Christmas packages to the poor, acting as private interpreter for an ambassador.

one to forget

A winter of worries - work, health, money. Apart from a gleaming Christmas and a few fascinating course weekends, I'd rather forget most of it.

But mountains have been moved for me. It's time to live, listen to the birds, and write sometimes.

interrupted thoughts

I have washed puppy pee from my jeans and sang I see a red door and I want it painted black...

Science and princes with ancient table manners, glamorous dresses and food ...

A yellow light flashing, a steel door gliding open by itself. Shouted loudly come out and play ...

Oh ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
and I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye

I cry for the loss of love when what I really mean is the loss of warmth. Love is found in the sun. Late bloomer, they said once. What about never-bloomer?

I'm already in eternity, just a few more bumps in the road before heaven opens up.

Clutching a double-shot cappuccino like a lifeline, trying to focus on a book. Listening to the Eastern-European guys ...

A gentle hand steadied me.

... on a quest for God's love and an easy breath.

... obliquely through the dandelion clocks around us ... 

Pandemic restrictions have been lifted and I can go to church again, if I want. I don't know if I want. 

"Let's go to France this summer and explore castles and drink red wine," a friend said. 

December is another planet than June.

They say there might not be enough electricity this winter, and is there a good way to finish this blog entry? No, there isn't.

There was a woman, once. This is not my story.

living with fire, or the times I nearly died

I have managed to set my hair on fire twice. (Must have had some fun parties!)

As a kid: nearly drowned once, was chased by a pedophile another time.

As a carefree student travelling by bicycle in every kind of weather: close encounters with moving cars at least three times, with the ground a few more.

I was hit by a bus while walking, and survived. 

Thank you, God.