One day you adopt a dog or you come to have a puppy or the dog adopts you, but just imagine one second you have a dog. For example a German Shepherd. The kind of dog you never dreamed of having, not your design, or for whatever reason. But still, you have a dog. You come to really like him. Those beasts are so touching, yours might just invent himself a second youth with all the hopping around and inventing new games, the ultimate goal of which is always to have his belly scratched. You get used to your dog, the dog gets used to you, all is well in wonderland. Then one day you come home, the dog is howling with pain, bleeding out of his ear, in shock and fright you take him to the vet. And guess what ?! You've got dog genius. The only dog who can somehow detach the canal that permits hearing from the rest of his head, something highly unlikely and almost impossible. Nobody knows how he did it. But you can just assume he tried to poke a stick right through his head, into one ear and out the other. You're imagining all that ? Feel like you're almost there ? Well, you can have the down loadable pdf adoption form on request. His name is Orion, I really like him a lot but he's being a pest. We've been to the vet three times in as many days, it has cost me about three years of my life in worry and a considerable amount of money, and him a lot of nerve. Ah, but one still feels so sorry for the pooch.
I would even say pretty please and do some sweet thing with my eyelashes. Just for some light to take some photos.
Because I would like to update my shop with some shoulder totes but who would buy something vaguely resembling oatmeal with strawberries?
Or oatmeal with spinach, anyone ?
(The upside of short posts is that I don't make many mistakes in English. And the lesson from five days with rain is that a) you'll survive, b) plant's don't need light. That's a myth. They grow just fine in the rain c) people born in the South don't like rain and tend to get nasty after four days of water pouring over their heads d) you need to stay positive, though uninspired)
They were bottled yesterday and six samples of each arrived at the winery this evening.
The photo doesn't do them justice. It has been raining straight for four days now and there isn't any light to speak of, but we stood gazing at the bottles for five minutes with Christian and Vincent and were dazzled. Honestly. Suddenly the last months of work, chaos and panic have come to be in those very real bottles. Those very real nice and pretty bottles.
After such a prolonged absence life will go back to normal on this blog. And maybe even on this winery. Bottling will take place Monday and Tuesday and I have all my ten fingers and toes crossed. Which makes walking difficult but will hopefully ensure the end of this miserable story about bottles and labels. As a treat for myself I have indulged in some princess decoration. Pretty lights and a mirror. So when I use words I can't repeat in writing (figuring out the Overlock. Who on earth needs four threads in one machine?!) I can look into the mirror once in a while and practice a dainty smile. Happy ladylike weekend, everyone.
Home is looking at a photo and immediately knowing how the spring evening smells, how it feels on your face when the first mist rises at dusk.
Home is familiarity with gestures and procedures. Everybody getting up and huddling a little bit closer when evening falls, maybe a campfire. Another glass of wine. Scents intensifying, companionship tugs you into the evening and conversation.
Home is moisture and growth in the meadows and fields, at least for me. Something so vibrant you can see and feel it, especially in spring.
Home is leaving and not being sad because it will still be there when you come back.
Thank you all for your kind and thoughtful comments and emails. I'm still trying to integrate the fact that grandfather is gone. Trying to go from the verb 'dying' to 'dead'. We'll say good bye to him next week Thursday and that will be a very sad occasion, but right now there are stretches of time when I don't think about it and even more time when I do think about him and grandma, but only happy and funny thoughts. About how it was when we were little and they in their prime of grand-parenthood.
Before burying grandfather though, my new godson and I will be baptized. Monday. And to be precise: He'll be baptized and I'll then be his godmother. Lucky him.
Jakob was born in September and is the son of one of my two best friends. Even though he doesn't like his mother to talk on the telephone (thinking she should much rather talk only to him, if she please) and wails loudly when I call, he's the the source of many happy thoughts at the moment nonetheless.
It's as my grandmother always says: 'Thus joy and tears come from the same face.'
Our grandfather passed away yesterday at the age of 86. It's the kind of phone call we all dread, knowing full well that it must come one day.
What can I say? We'll miss him. I'll make sure my children and grandchildren can say 'go to the pharmacy' backwards in German really fast. I'll be sure to tell them who got out the water hose when my brother and sister and I had water fights in the garden in summer. We'll be sure to remember how he used to drive off after a visit and had to stop five hundred meters away because he had so many tears in his eyes he couldn't drive. Oh, and yes, I'll remember all my life how he used to hold Hanna upside down by her legs when she howled because he thought she might suffocate with her own rage (gratifying moment in the life of a sister). We'll remember the funny and the sad stories he told us, and I'll sure never forget the memorable phone calls that started out all happy and ended with him hanging up abruptly and without good bye because he didn't want us to hear him cry.
And yes, once in a while Daniel, Hanna and I will go to a restaurant and tell the waiter we would not like to pay (maybe we'll even wave the money around just a little bit), and when asked how we are, we'll answer 'thank you, bad as well'. Grinning a little bit.
A week ago I realized that I had been listening to one of my favorite author's new release as an audiobook for two and a half hours and and had literally no idea what had happened so far.
That's what I do when I work on my own projects, be it an illustration or some craft project. I listen to audiobooks. It's a little bit like cinema in my head. At the same time I have half an ear open for outside noises. One of the boys having his arm cut off (they did buy the chainsaw they dreamed of and it was only with effort that we could save some of the trees on the winery) or some other emergency. Plus there is a section in my brain that thinks about the blog post I would like to write that day. To that you can add the usual list of projects I would love (no, make that looooooove) to do or make, rattling along in another part of my brain and there is a lot of noise in my head every day.
Mothers with two or more children are bound to think 'hah my dear, that's nothing. You just see and wait...' And that's exactly why I wait to have those 1,52 kids I'm supposed to have while living in France. Who wants to have cute babies when there are craft projects to finish?
When all the uproar inside and outside of me became so loud I couldn't concentrate on a suspense audiobook any more I knew it was time for some silence. That's why this blog has been a quiet one last week. I took time to water plants (aha ! the 'seed' illustration does have something to do with today's post ! What a happy coincidence.), sew some sweet clothes for someone very very special and dream about projects I want to do. Quietly. One after the other.