pausing between the festivities and daily chores,
the child play, the child worry, the rain
to dip into this book, jot down a line, or twelve


for how hard it is 
to understand the landscape 
as you pass in a train
from here to there
and mutely it
watches you vanish



behind Turkenfeld
a spruce nursery
a pond in the
moor on which
the March ice
is slowly melting

and my mind is untangled, free again
i even went for a walk 
without my thoughts 
tonight i will make apple compote 
with juniper berries to scent the house
with orange and cinnamon and cloves

happy, luminous new days to you!


thank you all for the warm wishes -

merry christmas !



school is over for the holidays
(we made some eau de vie truffles for the teachers)
and we can put our routine away for a while.

there are friends around our table almost every evening
tomorrow we might drive up to the snow
each day and night as it comes.



very cold days and nights, so unusual for us
as if we're borrowing someone else's weather

a.'s simple lanterns, made with just pin pricked paper
and a jar, i was so surprised by their warm glow



we've been battling a virus with old-fashioned remedies
like olive leaf tea and bowls of steam
i think we're finally winning :)

what's left of your chrysanthemums, Δ μου
we loved them, thank you



i want to say thank you
to all of you who come here, who leave words and goodwill
you have all helped me to see more and better,
to simplify, be grateful.

thank you!

[and yes, this is the light on the eve of winter .  .    . ]




be happy, my little girl. always. please.



i was going to say that we're preparing for a winter that's not coming
but an almighty storm two nights ago has changed something in the air .   .    .

/     curing the first olives. we'll eat these green with olive oil, garlic, crushed coriander + lemon
//    two christmas cakes sleeping in the cupboard
///   sweet peas ready to plant out for spring

and we also made some quince paste with these.

hope your week has started well!



"the autumn is a time when leaves come brown and curl and die. 
and you can not find the very first leaf which is turning 
for summer and winter move slowly in to one another. 
there is not one day when all the leaves are brown."

from The Colour of Milk by Nell Leyshon


still quiet days without k
we do the homework and then go out to the park
today we kicked a cypress cone all the way home :)



she asked for her own alarm clock, 
another small step towards independence
i thought, i'll soon be out of a job
but no, she barely hears it now
and still needs mamma to wake her up .   .     .     

while k is 'catching' birds in mid-flight in paris
among other things



the aftermath of a last-minute all hallows' eve party 
for two little witches (and their mothers)
we think we like that twig there
and might keep it to hang leaves, pebbles, feathers 
and other loot from our walks .  .    .

happy weekend! 



from our weekend in the village
where time slows enough 
to bathe in sunsets,
and the silence is thick, the dark dense

[both photos by k]


a visit from my sister, the first family cold, quinces from a friend's orchard,
an ombre leaf from the garden, shades of our autumn .  .    .

+ a toussaint holiday, we're off to our village home for a few days - looking forward to huge gulps of country air. happy weekend, until soon!



i thank you endlessly
dear v
for my warm, woollen feet
as the wind gathers
same-coloured clouds overhead
and turns them into autumn rain .   .     .



for a little friend called lily .  .    .

happy days!



it took us by surprise 
this first autumn term
the heat, the tiredness of the afternoon,
what it takes to learn how to read and write
two languages at once 
and the emotional costs of new friendships

but now the first drops of rain have fallen
the little routine is slotting into place
and mornings (well, it's technically still dark at 6.30)
start with a hug and smile.



i've been finding it difficult to 
jump down the rabbit hole 
into the virtual world these days
life is looking for a rhythm but
the heat has been intense -
though there are signs, a yellow leaf here, a sudden breeze there :)

thank you for the wishes
i spoke a bit too soon
a. cried twice on the second day and howled on the third
but this morning she punched the air when she got there
i think she's made her peace


those beautiful sashiko stitches were made by coco
she generously gave them away on her blog and we won,
lucky, grateful us!



'la rentrée'

first day at primary school today and
i thought she'd cry rivers
but she gritted her little teeth instead
drew a couple of pictures, did some maths
borrowed a book on dolphins from the library, and made a new friend.

and mummy is so relieved,
maybe even a little proud :)



in the forests of england  .     .        .

where we spent much of our summer.