There are days lately when I suffer strong yearnings for the climate of my childhood, and its associated sensations - sub-tropical Australia in all its glory. Of course, I'm talking about the heat. Not just any heat: not dry, scorching Melbourne heat, but the humid, sticky muffled heat that is Brisbane in summer. All the windows and doors of the house open to let in the breeze, and the deafening nighttime sound of cicadas in the bush as darkness decsends. Waking up in the morning and going outside...

Don't you love those classic kindy photos. Reminds me of my kindergarten photo from 1977, except in my one my teacher was smiling, and we had an octopus in the background - one with legs made of ladies' stockings stuffed with newspaper. For those of you who can't see Mikus, he's the cutest one - with a big cold sore...

It's called "hoar frost", or in Latvian, sarma. I had only seen it before on a couple of occasions - a wintertime occurrence, where white ice crystals form on cold clear nights, due to heat loss into unclouded skies causing objects to become colder than the surrounding air. This last week we have had 4 or 5 continuous days of sarma - and I can safely say that it is one of the most insanely beautiful things I have ever seen mother nature pull out of her "bag of tricks". It is as if every single...

Well it's been a while - I've not blogged in ages, part of the reason being the all-pervading darkness, which was my last substantial post, and partly because there's been NO TIME, as per usual, and lastly - probably because I've got nothing to say.  Or to be more precise: I've felt mean spirited and haven't wanted to share my life on the internet.  Not that anyone forces me to do so, but these blog efforts are usually directed in a "form letter" format for those friends and family...