Nothing’s happening
Yet everything is here Now
I breathe in silence.
I wait in silence
For a small sign from above
To take the next step.
The day goes to sleep
Never to wake up again
Blue silence remains.
Life crafts miracles
In the silence of the night
I trust and exhale.
As you may have seen, I have already unpacked my recent travels in Italy. I started from
the top of my suitcase right after opening it. But there is more. And it’s much harder to unpack. The bottom layer of my ‘virtual suitcase’ is heavy with memories all the way from my childhood. Some now wrinkled, others still vivid.
After having to say the final goodbyes to both my dear dad and husband last summer, I had to go back to Finland mid September to take care of dad’s estate with my sister. That’s where my recent trip started. At my childhood’s lake house in Finland. The quiet, peaceful place in the north that’s had a great influence on who I am today.
I have always felt that the many moods and expressions of and around the small lake reflect my life. Dark skies, bright skies, strong colors, soft colors, fire and passions, peacefulness and sadness. I love them all. And I will remember them all.
After losing our mother to cancer in our teen years, we “the sisters”, were blessed to have the world’s best dad with us until this past July. A WWII veteran, despite of failing health in the last couple of years, he was sharp as a knife until the day he passed on. Here pictured at 19 in his military uniform and on his 90th birthday a few years ago. An ironman with the heart of gold. His love is still vividly felt and his wise counsel missed on a daily basis.
While going through all the papers and photos gathered over so many decades we found remarkable things. Among those was an old newspaper article about our dad. He was carrying the Olympic torch as it traveled through Finland to the 1952 Olympic Summer Games in Helsinki. I had heard of it, and knew he had been a great athlete, but never before seen this ‘evidence’. It made me proud…and teary-eyed.
It was hard to put dad’s house on the market, the house he built with his own hands and where we grew up. But since none of us could live there, it had to be done. My sister and I remembered how we used to have a ‘grocery store’ right under the enclosed front porch. Among other neatly packed goods, we ‘sold’ sand in used wheat flour bags…to whomever walked by. Great for pancakes, we used to advertise. So many happy memories.
In the last picture I took of the house, the wild wines seemed to form a colorful heart on the wall. Symbolic of the love that lived in this house. And that is how I will always remember it.
I packed what little I could carry in my suitcases, the most precious memories. When I left for the last time on that overcast Saturday morning, they were filled with melancholy and gratitude.
The old Loon I had seen on every visit in the past few years made an appearance far out on the lake, as if saying goodbye.
I traveled to London. I would have a Sunday stopover in this familiar city before continuing to Milan for work early on Monday. I would pull myself together.
That evening I took a long walk on the darkened streets and ended up at a small restaurant reflecting on life. Full of twists and turns, but at the end delicious like calamari. If we had the courage and took the time to taste it.
Sunday was a gorgeous autumn day. I rode double-deckers, took a boat ride on the Thames and walked for miles. The brilliant fall colors in Hyde Park reminded me it was the season of change. But that was hard to accept.
I wanted to dwell on memories crafted with my husband in this city. I revisited places I remembered from our honeymoon and several subsequent visits. I passed the Trafalgar Square, where were used to walk among the pigeons. Nelson was still there.
I passed the Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral, where my husband had photographed the beautiful interiors such a long time ago.
I walked around the Tower of London, where we had fun adventures as newlyweds. The landscape around it had changed remarkably. The famous Gherkin, the Shard and other modern glass towers now filled the skyline.
The newest tower was still under construction, but already invited prospective buyers to visit model apartments. This reminded me that while the old and familiar was still there, new experiences would be added to the fabric of life.
The Big Ben at the Parliament buildings had fallen silent. At some point age tends to catch up. But hopefully, when the extensive repairs have been completed in 2021, its famous chimes will be heard again.
The 3500 years old Egyptian obelisk at the Thames, Cleopatra’s Needle, brought back both our honeymoon and our last visit to this city just a few years ago. I could still see myself behind the camera and husband sitting on that sphinx on the right.
And passing the London Eye, I realized I had to learn to look into the future, however difficult and meaningless that may feel at the moment.
I knew that sooner or later I had to cross that misty bridge to the next phase of my life.
And with that I was on my way to Milan and my Italian experience, grateful for what had been and what was yet to come.
It was, indeed, the season of change. And I had to accept that.
I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least, and it is commonly more that that, sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. – Henry Thoreau.
Solitude is not the absence of Love, but its complement. Solitude is not the absence of company, but the moment when our soul is free to speak to us and help us decide what to do with our life. – Paulo Coelho
Solitude is aloneness you choose and embrace. I think great things can come out of solitude, out of going to a place where all is quiet except the beating of your heart. -Jeanne Marie Laskas
Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. – John Muir
Solitude in the summer forest, full of leafy trees, urges us to breathe. To enjoy beingness, just like them. – Tiny K.
It is time now, I said, for the deepening and quieting of the spirit among the flux of happenings. – Mary Oliver
Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all the darkness. – Desmond Tutu
Solitude feels like a refreshing shower of light snow. It’s brightening my soul. – Tiny K.
Solitude is the great teacher, and to learn its lessons you must pay attention to it. -Deepak Chopra
Wherever the wave of life transports me, I always seek natural beauty. Back home it was easy to find untouched nature and to feel its ‘spirit’.  Even when people help nature to produce fruits, vegetables and berries it happens in harmony with the wild. Lettuce grows not far from lingonberries.
In my dad’s garden, the apples were still growing, getting more colorful every day. And the healthy buckthorn berries were almost ripe to pick.
On our daily walks, of which at least one went all the way around the lake, I noticed and enjoyed the small things in nature. Like the butterflies, the Peacock and the Mourning Cloak we found around our trail.
IÂ heard the hum of the universe in the Finnish forests, mighty green with stately firs, pines and birches. And rowan trees full of red berries for the birds to enjoy.
And I admired the great variety of wildflowers we encountered on our walks: wild roses, blue bells, clover, dandelions, heather and floating beds of water lilies.
I stopped to take pictures of them and then had to run to reach the others. Great exercise…some days over 12,000 steps. Not that I’m counting  :-).  Although in fairness, our awesome guide would stop and wait for me if I disappeared from sight. He always made sure nobody was left behind in the woods.
Whether it was morning, late afternoon or evening, the lake always spoiled us with gorgeous views.
One evening we spotted a couple of Whooper Swans very close to the shore, but of course that time I didn’t carry my camera. The next evening I could only find one of them at the far end of the lake.
We often came back from our explorations around the magical ‘blue hour’ after sunset. Then, soon after night fall around 10 p.m., the moon climbed up onto the sky painting the lake in magical colors.
My last evening ‘back home’ I went out to the lake and got a surprising goodbye gift. A Loon swam quietly out through the reeds fairly close to me. What a treat!
The next morning I had to leave at 3 am to make my early flight to London and further to the US. The archipelago outside Helsinki was just waking up to a new day. I felt deep gratitude for having had this wonderful time with my dad, my sister, my niece, aunts and cousins.
The next morning after coming home, I found a welcome committee from the salt marsh right here in our garden. Snowy Egrets, White Ibis and a Northern Mockingbird had gathered to welcome me home.
That was wonderful, but nothing compared to the reception I got on my first walk at the salt marsh this morning. Can’t wait to tell you all about the welcome back party.
I wish you all a wonderful weekend and a great new week.
The close to 26 hour travel from Florida Gulf Coast to my R & R destination in Finland was remarkably comfortable. Much thanks to my habit of paying practically everything on one airline card. Quite enjoyable indeed from the colorful, Africa-inspired sendoff in Philly to the delicious Money Monster accompanied dining onboard. Points still work.
After actually sleeping quite a bit over the Atlantic, and everything running on time in London, I arrived in Finland surprisingly intact. For someone who gets to see family ‘back home’ only about once a year these trips are always nostalgic. Many kinds of pictures from the past suddenly surface. Me as a toddler moving into our new home with mom, dad and baby sister. A home built by our dad. A home that still stands tall, here pictured on a moonlit night the week before last.
Me in elementary school. And the memory of laying down on this very school yard bleeding profusely after being hit right on the nose with a baseball bat by a fellow student in the PE class. A ring of worried people bending over me when I wake up. This eight year old’s Miss Universe dreams brutally smashed. But at least she got a few days off school while her eyes couldn’t see anything but the humongous nose.
Me in high school, and then as an undergraduate and graduate student in the big city of Tampere about 45 miles away from home. That was a wild time. Initially. But then we all mature and somehow life finds its intended path. I pass familiar places, but they are not the same. Like this old Orthodox Church next to my university. It used to reach for the blue skies all alone, but now has a backdrop of a brand new hotel tower. Progress.
When I pass my high school, I notice the Lutheran Church completed while I was a junior. Very modern architecture at the time, and in my eyes it still holds lots of appeal. I find comfort in the fact that at least a few places look like I remember them.
On the 3.5-hour journey from the capital to my childhood home, more familiar places fly by the window. Now illuminated by the late afternoon sun. And my early years come back to me with a profound sense of gratitude.
And soon I was there. At the lake that belongs to my childhood more than anything. And one that still symbolizes peace and tranquility in my life.
That first night I couldn’t resist going out to the backyard after the late dinner. I was marveling at the fact that dusk arrived only around 10 p.m. And the fact that my dear dad still kept a thriving garden.
That moonlit night I felt the peace of this wonderful spot on earth. And I knew those precious, long-awaited moments with family had arrived.
The toddler, teenager and adult merged into a surprisingly balanced whole and let out a long exhale into the cool night air.
Immersed in serenity. Whispers of the forest. Beholding the dance of the clouds. And tasting the air. Fresh. Comforting. It fills my being.
Hiking. We pass the childhood “river”. At both ends of the lake. And the picnic “island”. Destination for countless boat trips. Lunch bags and shared secrets. The two sisters. Rain or shine.
And later, I marvel about the snow flakes as they slowly float towards the ground. Others eager to discover what might be hidden underneath. Like fallen apples.
Or happy memories of childhood winters. When the earth was cooler. And the snow made itself comfortable on the trees early in the season.
Sunrise after morning coffee. Well after. Calm lake announces a beautiful day. The reeds hum a familiar tune. And the bird of the week jumps high up in the sky.
The hiking companion comes flying on the ground. Checks on those in his care. Covers three times the distance. Nine miles instead of three.
And so the days go. Until the fire in the sky announces tea time. Jam filled donuts. Warmth inside and out. Childhood home.
I’ll see you soon. Around tea time.
Happy place. I taste the words. A place where I feel happy. Where I go to let go of stress and frustrations. And worries. A place where I can laugh or cry. And where my soul can rest.
There are many such places, I realize. For different uses. But all my happy places have one thing in common. Water. On the water. Near the water.
There are everyday happy places right here at home. Like standing barefoot in the shallow water watching the sun dive into the Gulf. Or a catamaran sail into the sunset.
Or sitting on “my” bench next to the deep water at the salt marsh, listening to Mockingbird’s song and watching Mama Osprey enjoy her garden.
These are everyday happy places. Places to run to whenever I feel in need of soothing stillness surrounded by nature.
And then there are special happy places. Treats of complete happiness not enjoyed every day. Like an afternoon on a small island inhabited only by birds and dolphins. Or a day spent on the water with family.
Or hikes on old, unspoiled islands. Diving into happiness as it used to be long before my time. Special treats of happy.
And then there are forever happy places. Places with traces of my short history here on earth. Places that remember me. From the time my tiny feet felt the cool water for the first time. Where I return to find peace. Sitting on a rock alone with the moon. Enveloped in warmth on a summer night.
I wish you all a happy week. Wherever your happy place might be. You can find other responses to this challenge here.
This week’s DP photo challenge is “Half and Half”. It leaves room for quite a bit of creativity in the interpretation. I like that. Many things in life are half and half. Even today is half rain, half shine. Different from the day last winter, when the view from my terrace was half fog, half sky.
About half of these images are newer, the other half older. Almost half of you may have seen about half of them before. But because my hard disk is only working half and half since Friday, I can’t process brand new ones right now. I’m expecting a whole new hard disk to arrive at half week. I wish everyone a great week ahead, may there be nothing half and half about it.
You can find other responses to this challenge here.
During my recent trip to Europe, I went to see my dear dad for a few days. At the respectable age of 91, he lives in his house at a beautiful lake in Finland. He built it himself when I was about four years old. I grew up there until my educational pursuits and work brought me to the big city. And later to Sweden and around the world.
It’s good to go home. Apart from having some wonderful quality time with my dad, these visits are always relaxing and pleasant. With quiet time for reflection, nature walks, deep conversations and sauna baths. This time my visit was also a tad nostalgic. I saw many places I hadn’t seen for a long time. Like this church where we lived in the side wing when I was born.
My first memories are from here. I manage to climb out of my crib for the first time and surprise my mom by running into the church where she was preparing for a mass. A little later, I “paint” mom’s green kitchen chair with fresh apple sauce. And I’m very proud of my accomplishment.
Then my elementary school. It’s still standing and proudly providing education for the kids in the village. When I stood there in the school yard, I got another, not so pleasant, memory flash.
I’m on my back on the gravel looking up to faces staring at me in a circle. I’ve been hit on the nose by a baseball bat swung by a fellow second grader. Sporting accident. Blood. And a very swollen nose. Most of my field of vision is filled by a huge nose. Luckily it didn’t stay that way.
My dad drove me around to see houses where I had played with friends, all of whom now lived elsewhere. And beautiful spots that I used to frequent. A full day of nostalgia. Everything changes.
Although it was still October, winter was clearly on its way. Some rivers were partly frozen, and one morning I saw a hint of snow on the ground too. Just a hint in a shady spot in the forest. It’s kind of treat for a Floridian. Provided one is appropriately attired. My pea coat was no match for the wind chill, but luckily my dear sister had left some warm clothes there for me to borrow.
We did many walks in the nature and although most of the colorful foliage was already gone, it was still beautiful.
Some of you may wonder if I saw any birds. Yes I did. Two different kinds. Although the migratory birds, like ospreys, swans and swallows, had left several weeks earlier, IÂ found many Great Tits congregating around feeders or looking for rowan-berries.
And I saw a rooster 🙂 Mind you, it was not an ordinary rooster. But one that made a lasting impression. I was visiting my cousin’s house and snapped this picture with my phone. Just to have evidence.
He was impressive! And although he was not a bit scary, I’ve asked him to serve as my “Halloween bird”.
It was a wonderful visit, but it’s good to be back too. Happy Halloween everyone!
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