shadow play

Today I went for a run, despite feeling totally low-energy all weekend, and with the thought that I'd only go for a short time the only thing that got me out the door. The sky was utterly grey (i'm seriously about to go insane from grey skies) and the ground was slippery with ice in all the best running places (the valley and the forest). But once I was out the door, down the path, out into the open valley, and sloshing through the melted snow, I couldn't help feeling that wonderful kid-feeling of puddle hopping. First I was doing these ridiculous jumping maneuvers to avoid the pools of melted snow, then I was embracing them, feeling the ice-cold water seep into my socks and running faster just to get through them. After I ran in the valley for awhile i turned left and sprinted up the forest path, avoiding the dangerous ice patches and taking lots of alternative routes to do so. ahhh....fresh air, a fast heart beat, and a healthy ache in my legs. Everywhere I ran there was the precious sound of running water, of melting snow heading downhill in ravines and the sides of streets.
Random: i got this great thin cotten, slightly blue, longish shirt/dress from the thrift store this week. Can't believe i let myself even walk in the door knowing i have no extra suitcase room to spare! The countdown is now 18 days till the big move....how time flies!

white birches, white churches

I think I've been in a car two times since Christmas. Once about a month ago to go to Stockholm, and the second time was today. I felt the need to get out of Uppsala, outside of the small radius that my bicycle can take me. On the way home from a lovely forest walk, this church was spotted. Construction began on it in 1180. It was beautiful to behold, especially in the bright sunshine. One couldn't help noticing how it stood out from the otherwise sparse countryside. A few wooden houses, fields sleeping under the snow, and then this church. Someone a long time ago obviously was moved to build this. To put so much effort of time, money, architecture, and beauty into something shows its importance. My suspicion is that the God of the Bible moved the older generations in Sweden to build such churches.
The contrast was sharp as we headed back into the city. The new IKEA is almost done being constructed, and it is so humongous that you can no longer see the steeples of the cathedral in town as you approach. I thought, hmm, looks like this is what we worship today. Material things. Stuff for our home, our wardrobe, our cars. Worship may sound like a strange word, like a "religious" word that only applies to those who bow their heads to the ground or buy a statue to place on an alter in their home, but worship is something we all do. The object of our worship can be easily discovered by observing what we spend our time doing, where we spend our money, what we aspire to get out of life.

My prayer is that I would not be one who worships and serves created things, but rather the Creator.
Much joy is found in this.

BIG steps

Big steps were taken today. I mean, giant steps. Steps towards spring, towards warmth, towards light, and towards newness. I ate lunch and read a book on my front porch steps, without shoes, and only 2 sweaters on, no jacket. I took a long walk, across the snow, but without a jacket, hat, or mittens. I met a friend downtown to fika, and since we strategically chose the cafe with the best afternoon sun, we drank our cappcuccinos OUTSIDE! Incredible. Intoxicating. Life-giving.

Best of Sweden:: the forest

How can I describe it? It is like a scene out of a children's book, a place where it seems trolls could very possibly live and little mushroom children could pop out from behind the mossy rocks at any moment.In the winter the forest is snow-covered and quiet. I feel like Robert Frost when I take late evening walks, finding the path by the light of the snow and the occasional lamp.

In little over a month, white flowers will cover the forest floor and the trees will bud with that fresh, new green of spring.
In late summer come the blueberries, lingonberries, and wild raspberries. What a feast! And then the mushrooms! Porcini and canterells are especially abundant. Once I was chatting over coffee with a sweet older couple. They had been married at least 5o years, and though they had lived in Uppsala for awhile, they both grew up in the far north of Sweden. I asked them what their impression of the "South" was. Their answer: "Det finns ingen skog!" Meaning, "there are no forests here!" Wow. And I thought I was living in the land of forests.

grey is the name of the day

Grey is all it's been lately. A grey sky stretches out as far as the eye can see and the once-pure snow has turned grey from dirt and gravel. I know that coveting weather is silly, but it's hard to help it when on the phone with my family in SC I hear subconcious remarks like "oh, gosh, it's so hot here on the porch where i'm standing" or "well, your little sister is here in a sundress putting sunscreen on..." (all my ears pick up is sun, sun) And my favorite radio programs from home, streamed online, contain at least 10 weather reports every hour all stating how it's a glorious day with temps in the upper 60s! well, I will not succomb to the jealousy. My memory reminds me that last year, come late april and may, I experienced the most thrilling spring, the most energy-giving, joy-filled days, the forest floor covered in wild flowers, the midnight sun and the ceaseless chirping of birds. And that thrill can only come when one suffers through a lengthy grey season. So....suffering produces perseverence, perseverence character, and character hope. And on sunday night i discovered 2 frozen containers of berries from the summer in my freezer (i cannot BELIEVE they escaped my notice until now...i would have never resisted them this long if i'd known they were there) The red currents and blueberries made an amazing cobbler, reminding my taste buds of what's to come!

For now it's grey walks past the cottage which is open once a month as a cafe...reading books all day on a saturday, and bringing the hope of spring inside.

homeward bound

Tonight I came home at 9. Tired from a week of evening english courses. Hungry. Frustrated that my classes can't be catered perfectly to every student's need. And home was soooo perfect in that moment. A respite, a shelter, a calm place.
Does anyone else out there just have those moments when home and homey activities are absolutely the most enjoyable and pleasant and perfect thing? When you would rather be nowhere else than that rocking chair with your knitting, or chopping carrots in the kitchen? Well, I am and always have been a homebody, so my answer is yes, 90% of the time.My shawl is coming along nicely that I started a week or 2 ago. It's slow-going, but that's probably a good thing. Sometimes I race through projects too quickly. Instead I pick this up when I can, do a few rows, mark where I left off, and enjoy the slow growth. I do love knitting lace. It keeps one's mind alert. It's like training your short term memory abilities... ok P2, K3, K2tog, SKP, YO, K1, YO, P7....repeat. And at the end of every row there is a moment of suspense as I see if I end up evenly with success or with an odd number of stitches. Most of the time the suspense is followed by a satisfying feeling of relief and pride that I made it safely again to one side without a disaster. I love the way knitting relaxes me, uses my hands, and engages my eyes as I take in the progress with a watchful eye for mistakes.
I am sure these women can't have been knitting lace. It's impossible to have a conversation simultaneously...I salute any knitter who has mastered that!

Best of Sweden:: the language!

In my opinion, one of the top 3 most intriguing and delightful parts of traveling or living abroad is the opportunity to hear, speak, and see another language in action. Language class in high school never does justice. Once you go from French class with a teacher who has never been to France (as was the case with my public high school Madame who was actually a Spanish major in college...don't ask) to the country roads of Provence where you first open your mouth to say bonjour! to the locals, something clicks all at once and you understand that language is the most practical of all subjects to learn, the one that has to do most with the everyday, and it is an endless source of discovery as one delves into new levels of meaning, idioms, and cultural nuances.

Needless to say, learning to speak Swedish has been a major task of mine here, and thankfully I really like the language, in an of itself, without any bias. i promise. Not every language is as beautifully melodic, or as, well, cute. It's also only spoken by 9 million people in the world, which can make a learner of Swedish feel like they are wasting their time, OR that they are learning a unique, "small" language that no one will be able to understand in the grocery stores back home. (I choose to focus on the latter) Someone once told me that being an au pair is the best way to learn another language, and I can attest to this. My vocabulary grew side by side with Alexander, as he went from a blabbering 2.5 yr old to a wordy, well-spoken 4 yr old. I had to understand him and make myself understood if we were to play a game throwing fallen apples for the dog, or get him dressed, or convince him we had to leave now on the bicycle. I have always thought children who speak another language are beyond adorable...now i find myself thinking little English speakers are cute, because that it what is now outside of my norm! This video gives you a taste of the sound of Swedish, because perhaps, like me before i moved here, you haven't really heard it before. The scene is a classic pillow fight, from the viewpoint of my bed.

If you're interested in hearing more Swedish, and perhaps you could completely care less, but check out this video of sidewalk interviews done during the summer on the Swedish island of Gotland.

and ps. the top picture is my sister, on her way home from a trip to see me here, where she carried around a stub of a pencil and a crumpled piece of paper in her pocket at all times, to learn as much of the language as she could while here. what a language lover. And may I ask, my few and faithful readers, what languages can you speak? and what is on your "wish i could speak..." list?