The Return of Sunshine

So, just as the snow came it is now being thawed by the sunshine licking the final leaves on the tree branches and all around. Yes, I can write long sentences with very little punctuation, as well as putting an aside and not feeling it necessary to bracket it off. But the snow is falling from the warming house tops and bushes and fences, performing a slow vanishing act. It's a scene, for sure. I posted my mother's birthday card. I hope it reaches her in time. I have no idea how efficient the Polish postal service is. It's a learning curve, as should most of our days be, otherwise perhaps they have been wasted, perhaps we didn't do with them what we might have, something we could expand from and then share with the coming generations, from love, from life, from desire.

The sound of the divine 'Proserpina' by Martha Wainwright is ringing around the room, my head. It is a stunning ode to her mother who died not so long ago. Her voice never sounded so beautiful, and I'm sure she felt the need to sing beyond herself when she approached the recording of the final song her mother wrote (so I have heard) before her death. A more perfect song is hard to find, surely. It is the sound of so many emotions. The sadness and glory of every day and the feelings it contains, of reaching for the stars, and both failing and reaching, and never letting go. The return of sunshine, the return of all our dreams, the return of you to me, and vice versa. I return to my mother in a birthday card, just like Martha to her mother in her song, and the sunshine to the land; and the love is all consuming at times.

The First Snow

Winter crashed into autumn this morning. The changing of the clocks to winter time clearly meant for Wonderland that the first snow of the season could wait no longer. Upon waking, far too early I should add, I could see some brightness through the tiny gaps in my shutter, and upon looking more closely I saw that snow had arrived, and was bathing the garden and rooves in a crisp, white blanket. I went back to sleep, with the shutter up, so the backdrop of softly falling snow helped me to relax and enter a deeper slumber, which it did. The neighbours are noisy, or the walls are thin, or everything can never be perfect, not even here in Wonderland, so time ticks on, after its change. The snow is already melting, the sky is almost the same colour though, so maybe more will be delivered soon. Since I arrived here less than two weeks ago there has been golden sunshine, deliciously playing with the leaves and trees as they become more bare by the day, and rain and cloud and grey skies, and now snow. This place is definitely keeping me on my toes and telling me not to settle in. Constant challenges, we must shift shapes and adapt and never stop loving, in all we do.

The snow just added to the magic, but it's everywhere. I want to venture out shortly, into the cold of this place. I want to feel it snapping at my revealed skin and licking my warmth. It can have me. I can warm myself again later. This place is beautiful.

The Pretty Blonde Polish Waitress

She was my waitress. I had just had some lunch and a drink. I obviously knew almost no Polish. Maybe it was funny when I said the odd word, maybe they all spoke English and found me useless. She was really cute. She had this long blonde hair, tied back tightly, sweet features. Her hair fell down the upper part of her back like effortless hay. I liked the way she looked and the way she smiled at me. Her t-shirt and waitresses apron fit her perfectly. She was delicate on my eyes, had a nice charm, like she might be a good soul. I had a happy feeling, fulfilled each time she passed me by, sometimes giving one of those friendly smiles.

I was in Wonderland. I was part of it now. I had the surroundings of my dreams as the daily fabric of my existence now. This woman was there too. Now, maybe beyond this moment as well. I would like to come back here, see her face again, though I could take it with me when I leave shortly. All the little moments, so pretty and special, flapping around like a newborn chick misunderstanding its wings, soon finding space and reason and explanation. She was gorgeous. She was Wonderland. I live here now. Holding hands with it all.

Halloween, Kiss My Ass

Whose idea was this? It’s like the Easter bunny on acid, thrown into a blender with a fancy dress shop, a horror movie and the brattiest kids a person could find. I am not convinced the nature of it is innocent (it just shows that kids are as macabre as the films they have seen and should not have!) nor that it’s the fun some claim it to be. It’s yet another chance for some kids to push the boundaries, and I imagine most folk dread those multiple knocks on their door at this time of year.

The Americanisation of our times is clear, what is not is just quite why. Perhaps ‘The Sheep Rule’ applies. People need to follow, not lead, to be told, not to have to think for themselves. Heaven forbid that. So there it is- baby time. Spoon feeding. This is what you like, this is what you should do, this is what you must think. You have to.

Somehow they pull it off. Like an unstoppable plague it spreads. Like a Tsunami it washes everything away in its sweeping over the land. Like the fashion and the unhealthy eating and the infiltration of bad spelling into the English language it goes on. I politely decline to be taken under by the ceaseless waves. In fact, such things make me move in the opposite direction. I never played the Halloween game; never saw the fascination with it. No treat, play a trick? It would imply to me to encourage violence, aggression and any other negative behaviour in society. Imagine if we had a ‘trick’ played on us every time someone begged or asked for something from us in the street and did not get anything. There would be chaos. The excuse could be, well I learned it through Halloween. Possibly this is rather extreme, but should we not teach good morals and values to the younger generations, rather than throwing the toy out of the pram should we not receive what we aspire to?

Put simply, Halloween, you can kiss my ass!