my work among the fairies

From a cabin in the woods I travelled in to work and started by going out for lunch.

Today's work tasks, once that was done: sending a piece of wood to China, pondering the different meanings of the word 'agency" in three languages, putting a fairy in her place, spending 800 of my employer's euros, deleting a picture of my nails, wondering what cookies really are, sending a container on a journey across the globe.

seafarers and lullabies

Ordinary events by the sea: a man I admire sailed in and someone sang Mammas lilla gullgull - my childhood lullaby (of unknown and possibly ancient origin) which still makes me sleepy.

live laugh love kill me now

I'm sick of cheery, upbeat blog entries of the carpe diem, live laugh love variety.

Especially my own. How can these sick, sugary creations arise from such a cynical mind? It was understandably ten years ago, it's typical of that age. I see it - and snigger condescendingly at it - in the social media posts of friends who are of that age now.

But I'm old and wise. I should know how to spew out properly bitter and world-weary missives.

The problem is just that missives like that are even more annoying.

The middle road - and the one I love - is sarcasm. Thank God for sarcasm and black humour. I'm sure it was the first thing he provided Adam and Eve with, as a consolation, when he was forced to kick them out of Eden to face reality.

I need a blog moderator who shuts me down - and bans me from the internet instantly - the moment I let a "live laugh love" slip out. Unless it's sarcastic.

exhausted and spider-bitten

Summer is for intense living.

There has already been wine on picnic blankets, seagull chick rescue operations, thunderstorms, flower picking, reading six year old magazines, heatwaves, tantrums, crossword puzzles over bad coffee, lilac planting, blisters and spider bites, mojitos, primitive living, expensive chocolate cakes, lawn-mowing in way-too-hot weather.

I'm exhausted, is it autumn soon?

church bells, star-flowers, history

The forest is warm and pine-scented - welcoming me with birdsong, winding paths and summer adventures.

Happy and alone, I pick lilies-of-the-valley in the emerald light of sun-soaked birch leaves. The bells of a church at the edge of the forest are ringing, a strange and beautiful melody that echoes through the trees as I wander further and further away.

I find a cave, canals with silent water, remains of ancient stonewalls and a mysterious hole in the ground. My additional findings include a site where people lost their lives for my freedom, a pet cemetery and a secret garden, luxuriously overgrown with apple blossom and lilacs.

A hill nearby was the centre of the world for many people, many centuries ago. History sings in my blood as I pick the star-flowers I remember from my childhood.

I have to come back. This forest contains almost everything that I love: summer, exploration, history, nostalgia, dreams.

planting lilacs

Digging soil and planting lilacs, hot sun, salt water, a spider bite, barefoot in a hammock, feeling at home.

a country opening around me tonight

From a weekend in the wilderness, I will return to a reopened country on Monday morning.

I have managed ten weeks in a closed country quite well. My work life wasn't much affected. I did a course in personal protective equipment. I got a little lazier and fatter, did a little charity work, read old books, watched Netflix, cycled and walked, drank wine with my friends.

I lost a trip to Italy, missed the library but rediscovered my own bookshelf of old favourites, did some writing, almost lost someone dear to me, was stiff-necked just like the folks in the Old Testament, enjoyed Star Trek and Kalevala.

I have really missed café windows, thrift shops, dinners in candle-lit bistros and freedom.

But there is rest in staying still, when everybody else is staying still too. And new ideas are coming.