Return to lives past . . .

I’ve been writing lately, finally picking it up from 5 years ago. Because I used to write, all the time, diaries, things I’ve seen, unfinished synopsis  of “great” novels. Everything. My world for me was something you could write down, formulate. If you can’t describe it, it isn’t there. Then life started to demand attention and I obeyed, building a business, starting a family etc, but lately, the last couple of months, I’ve started again. I’ve started by writing down things I liked, that I heard on the radio, sentences, in a note book, then I started to develop them and now I am almost self going, my imagination has finally started to give me ideas for text. This is all basic, I think to proper writers, but for me it is a revelation. I was thrilled, and I have written note books full in these couple of months. Until last night. Last night, my writing went well, my stories were developing, my sentences felt relatively fresh and then I put the pen down (yes pen, my boy uses my computer to watch Shrek on and I am left with the pen), read through and realized that I cannot offer this text anymore. I am writing down what I know, the text ads its own (I believe the text has it’s own life, like words that sound different to when you pronounce the,) but when I try and pick up the idea, nothing new has been added. Can it be so that I am out of experiences, that I can dip into, to support my imagination? Can there really be something like running out of experience? So this morning I went for a walk, well, just up the garden for the latest batch of tomatoes, and walking back I looked over the field opposite my house, a view I’ve seen a thousand times at least, but this morning it made me stop in my tracks. Before me was something like out of a Turner painting (hey, the guy was a realist !), a soft fog rolled over the hills and the sun was barely shining through it making the melted frost glisten in the light. In the middle of this the cows were already calmly grazing the remains of the grass. And it hit me, as I felt my energy and inspiration return, this is what I lack, this is what I need and it dawned on me, when was the last time I picked up a painting album, when was the last time I read a real novel. When was the last time I was so submerged in a creative expression, either my own or someone else’s, that I have forgotten about news, politics and other garbage the info society is feeding us. Why is it important to me to know about every misery happening anywhere in the world, why am I supposed to know everything barely known people do, how does that help my own little life? I need an intellectual detox! We are fed so much pointless information, that only makes us aware of our own insignificance and the powerless lives we lead, when in fact it really isn’t like this. Life is glorious, it is inspiring and it is joyful. I feel I need to regain it, decide for it myself. Make up my own mind and have views not adapted. And this time I will not be detoured!

So let's pop some good music in the player, read a good book and take the camera (and my family, they can come to) for a walk.

What a lovely way to start a Sunday !

MAXimum friends

I have a friend, a great friend, someone I count as one of my closest ones. Yet, we do not have any common memories,(except when we got extremely drunk on a delicious Caribbean drink in her gorgeous flat in Boston, we all thought it was a lovely fruity juice, then the percentage kicked in and we all started to sway) like you have with your best mates growing up, we have shared some really fantastic conversations, but they seemed to be cut short, we never seemed to have finished them. Still she is very, very important to me. Maybe this is what real friendship is about? I do not have to see her every day, although of course I would love to, I do not have to speak to her every day, I just know that she is there and exists.

Hopping around through different countries and living in different places every so often, most of my friends are at a distance, most of my friends live in different realities from me but when we meet it is like these different realities go for a break and we can just chat. Of course places like Facebook, make it possible for me to follow their lives closer and I have to admit, sometimes I just stroll round the pictures my friends posted on their page just to get close to their reality for a while.

So what is it in a person that is not physically close to you, to be your friend, someone close. Of course I have my interpretations. You see, I believe in Angels, and I believe in an Angels many guises. Some of my friends are in my mind, Angel messengers, put on this Earth to tell me something or to kick my butt.  I think my before mentioned friend is one of them. Some other friend have just a piece of an Angel in them, something that makes me feel good and helps to steer me in the right direction. Some friends, now former friends, have fallen angels that fooled me for a while but then showed their face.

In any case, my friend Maxette, is to me the closest to an Angel I can find. Come to think of it, why don’t you decide for your self . . .

http://www.karibisktyogaskratt.se/

What do you mean?

Today is election time in Sweden and it is a historical opportunity the Swedes have. If the government would be re elected it would be the first time in 102 years that a right wing government is re elected. Amazing!

But viewing the election from a distance and reading the programs of the different parties, I realise that my Swedish have been side stepped. I speak and read an educated Swedish and suddenly I realise that the way media and political parties use words, that I of course know the meaning of, in another context. Some words are hi jacked so to speak, they do not mean what they are supposed to mean, but have received a political context.

One such word for me is Life style. If you say that “this is my life style” you suggest that you are a modern, politically correct (in itself a strange term, is there only one politic ?) and someone who is open to alternative life styles. Why not say way of life instead?

My conclusion of this is of course drawn towards the arts and more concretely art forms.

I believe that today the most important art form, something that should be prioritised, is Poetry. If we lose the poetry, we lose words and if we lose words we lose ourselves and our identity.

So what so I do with this new found insight. Well, I turn of the news, close the newspaper and look for my Stagnelius book.

Incorporating life

Leaving the cooking and gardening deep in the weekend and turning towards a very, hopefully productive week. I still find it a struggle though, going from one thing to another, this changing of hats, changing of identities. One minute you are a gardener, next the photographer, next a cook, next the filmmaker. And all the time being a mom on top of all that. But it is necessary, this is how my life looks like,(like so many other mothers life) and would I like to change anything, make it simpler, of course not! I just need to find the red line going through these activities, a state of mind that would fit to all. Find a way to relate. Because, at time, all of my activities need to be combined (writing a script and talking to my son while my husband needs me to find picture for the business and the wind is currently destroying the newly planted quince tree)


Currently when I write a script it absorbs so much more, actually almost everything I have, then anything else and I feel like a power station, that needs a fair bit of time to warm up to start generating the level of ideas I need. I therefore can’t hop easily between different hats, or the power station will choke out!

But I think I am getting there. I have lowered the ambitions in the house and garden (it really doesn’t need to look like “Country Living”), and I have started to play around and impose my creativity in the non suspicious garden. I have banned Cath Kidston in the house and started to incorporate things that inspire me. And my boy, well he is the source of infinite inspiration and joy and someone who makes sure my priorities are set straight so I do not fly off into la la land completely.

It is all a work in progress. Somewhere there is a definite link to join my life together into the creativity I need to express, but where the hell did I put it?

Saving summer

An amazing day today. It is almost mid September and the temperature was over 20 degrees Celsius. Fantastic, my son was running around the garden in his underwear, can’t do that at this time of year in Sweden. It is also my favourite time of year when nature reaches its maturity, bushes bear fruit, trees suffer under heavy crops and a slow decay of the spring flowers begins. It is the time of harvest.


What I have done today is an attempt to save the taste of this years garden for the wintermonths. I believe that every year the herbs and the fruits taste a little bit different and for every year I am also trying out different herbs. So I collected all the herbs growing in my garden, wild or planted and chopped them finely and let them dry. I tied them in small muslin parcels to be used in stews of sauces throughout the year.

Lovely, the smell is absolutely fabulous !

So what am I on about ?

My plan with this blog is to write about my way of living, wouldn't really call it a life style, sounds so fashionable, so intented and following a dogma. Do not like that, my way of living doesn't follow a dogma, it follows my history and the history of my family and my creativity. I am swedish/czech, my husband is Polish and we live in England. We have lived in several european countries and in every country we have picked up things, little habits that we like. I would during the year try and show you the habits that we have, show you the foody festivals we celebrate (cray fish festival every august, swedish midsommer feast etc.). So please allow me to use this blog as a sketch book for my thoughts and ideas about my life, my gardens life and my works life . . .who knows where it might lead !

Begin the beguine

Czech Potatoe Gulasch now that is soul food for an autumn day !
Just a quick note . .well it shouldn't be quick really since this is the first entry on my first ever blog, but my boy will only stay quiet for so long, so it will have to be extremely speedy. Autumn is here and so will also soon be the end of month when the vallet tends to start echoing whenever opened. So I wanted to share with you my grandmothers receipt for Czech Potatoe Gulasch. Not only is this extremely yummy, it is also cheap, wuick and very easy to make.
And here it is:
Pork sausages (the soft german kind, Lidls are exellent)
Potatoes (not new spuds, but the older kind)
Soured Cream
Flour
Caraway seeds (Polish shops have the best and cheapest, are called kminek)
Paprika (sweet) (Also in the Polish shops, called the same)

Cut sausages in chunks, peel and cut the potatoes in chunks and cover with water. Fry the sausages in some oil, sprinkle with a lot of paprika. Pour the potatoes with the water over the sausages and cook until the potaotes are soft. Add heaps of caraway seeds.
Mix Flour and Soured Cream to a paste, add some liquid from the Gulasch and combine. When pourable, pour over the sausages and potatoes. Eat emidiatelly or is very yummy the next day . . .if it lasts so long.
Enjoy
Ohh I hear screaming better go . . . .