Christmas this year was all about initiative and hardcore family tradition. The boys turned a corner, whereby they transitioned from being passive pawns in our larger plans of "the Christmas experience", to being the driving force and dictators of events.
Christmas this year arrived with a cold snap a few days beforehand, and we found ourselves in the country in minus 15 degrees, with a windchill factor of minus 500. Or maybe it was 1500. That night we slept in...
I had a fond memory of my grandmother today. Margarita was trained at the Latvian Academy of Art before the war, and when she came to Australia she ended up teaching the Adelaide high society ladies to paint in the 1950s and 60s. She was an incredibly "modern" person, an eternal optimist, forever interested in things and making new friends. She also had a charming set of prejudices. Apart from recoiling from men with beards (Is there a name for beard phobia? ...just...
In our neck of the woods, you could be forgiven for believing that the end of the world was nigh. It's 4 p.m. and it's just getting dark. There is a snowstorm outside - it's about minus 5 - so the snow is swirly, powdery and fine. It's like Mrs God up in the clouds has gone crazy sifting the flour for gingerbread... or something.
The lights in our windows are twinkling hopefully, and I can hear the wood pellets jingling as they are fed into our wood furnace. Fizzy is...
The grade one teacher snuck me this letter Mik wrote to Santa this week. For those of you who can't read Latvian: "DEAR SANTA, ONE REAL TICKET TO AUSTRALIA. AND CHOCOLATE. AND ONE REAL KANGAROO. Merry Christmas, Miku...
Everyone's getting into the Christmas spirit over here. Even milk at the market is putting on appropriate attire. By the way, that festive looking bottle up there is actually a silent killer - RAW MILK. Shock, horror! They sell it at all the markets here - and little Latvian children drink it down. I hear ladies in New York have been rioting because it's against the law to buy raw milk for their offspring.
All the bottles at our local artsy...
No words have ever rung true-er. Because I tell ya, Oz is truly sunburnt - and I love her. As I sit in the half-dusk that is Latvian "daytime" at this time of year, my visual memory of my recent trip is precisely that - bleached out beautiful over-sunned landscapes with crunchy dry foliage all around. And the fragrance!! The amazing scent of eucalyptus and other Australian natives, which I never noticed quite so keenly before.
I had way too many fabulous...
Pic from here
So I have been subconsciously dreaming of Brisvegas the last few weeks, in light of my quick trip "home" next month. As I hinted in my last post - having been away for so long, the city has taken on a bit of a legendary character for me. The quality of the light, the humidity of the air, the memory of bare feet on hot bitumen when you hop out of the car, the sound of cicadas chirping in the bush at dusk. You know, all that stuff. It all has a dream-like...
The thought of blogging the past few weeks has made me feel.... kinda.... "meh". Is that a word? Is it included in any slang dictionaries? Well I'm hoping you get what I mean anyway. I guess it could be described as a contemporary form of "blah", I guess.
In my thoughts and dreams I have been travelling down under - I'm flying to Oz for three weeks in November for work, visiting people in all the capitals. Amazing. I haven't been "home" in five years, and...
Autumn leaves are like snowflakes, or people.
Each one is unique.
Each one has its own shape and beauty.
I am amazed by the infinite combinations of patterns and colour.
Every year.
PS. In other news, if you have been following the instagram feed on the right, you may have noticed that Jem has been in Athens for a work trip. Today they started a general strike, lucky for Jem he got out of the central square before protesters and...
Every year I have a wild time on the 20th September. Thing is, according to the Latvian calendar, today is my name day. Latvians (and lots of other cultures, as far as I know) celebrate different names on different days of the year. Everyone knows who's name day it is each day - probably because they have calendars on the back of the toilet door to remind them - and people make sure that they congratulate each Janis, Ieva, Mara, Peteris or whoever on the appropriate day....
This must be the year for "the little tree who could". First cherries, then apples. Lordy, lordy - the little apple tree we planted a couple of years ago, is going completely BANANAS! (I mean, like bananas-crazy, not bananas-the fruit). Just got back from a weekend in the country with two huge baskets full of gorgeous, tangy, crispy rose apples I picked off the tree. Only problem is, what to do with them all? I have a few plastic bags full of windfall apples...
