Evening Sun

This summer has been absolutely marvelous, bright and sweet and with air so warm you could drink it.

The Vase

     I have spent a great deal of time in the garden this summer, hacking and chopping and sawing down branches and brambles in an effort to tame the wilderness. The previous owners did nothing to tend their garden and the poor raspberry bushes are tangled into each other and the strawberry patch is choked by weeds. I have found a few glass bottles and some bricks--nothing very exciting--until one day, when I was clearing some dead branches out of the hedge, I found this glass vase in the dirt. How did it get there? How long has it been forgotten? Does it matter now that is has found its purpose again? For all things shall be made new. 

Åland

Later, Mamma, Pappa, and I took the ferry out to Åland to meet up with my brother, his wife Sofia and her parents, to see my sister Sofia in action at her new job. It was a short trip, but a good one, and we still managed to get quite a few things done.

On the ferry itself. I didn't want the red to bleed out of my hair because of the briny winds. It was a cold trip.

Sofia perusing the wares of a secondhand store

The men deep in discussion.

We stopped at Pub Niska, an open air restaurant by the harbour, and ordered thin-crust pizzas.

Hans and Lotta, my brother's parents-in-law, have taken control of their vessel. Piracy, it seems, is the family business. 

Half-grown cygnets paddling about in the harbour, next to their watchful parents.

Sister Sofia keeping watch at the castle

My sister works very long hours, but she was able to take some time off to come with us to the nearby castle. We climbed up narrow staircases to the top of the wall and shivered along its length as we took in the view and pretended to fire arrows out of the arrowslits. We also tried on medieval hats and took silly pictures, and for a moment it was like we were all together as a family again and not split apart by work and geographic location. I miss my sister.   

With My Brother, in Uppsala

Our journey in Sweden also took us south to warmer climes, and we spent several blissfully hot days at a church camp and then in Uppsala, wandering about the streets and stopping for fika at various tea and coffee houses.

Four fifths of my family assembled at breakfast, my parents at the table, my brother buttering a sandwich

Joel's got style, even next to the duck pond in Uppsala

A chocolate ball

Chilling, relaxin', maxin' all cool

Family, Extended or Otherwise

My family is not very big. My mother has one brother and my father has one brother, which means I have two uncles, each with one wife and three kids, which equals six cousins in total. My grandparents each have large families, but with all the traveling I do I have never met most of them and see them once every few years at some family reunion. My mother's mother, my mormor, is closest to her sister Marine, who has a husband and two children (my mother's cousins), who are actually closer in age to me than to my mother.

One of the things I admire most about my mamma is her gift for hospitality--she knows full well how hard it is to keep up family relations from afar, and she is one of the few to take the time to arrange events and send out invitations and gather uncles and aunts and nieces and nephews and cousins and grandparents from all corners of Norrland. This summer a smaller portion of us gathered for a family hiking trip to an observation tower.

My pappa and Aunt Helle leading the way, followed closely by my dear cousin

Cousin Amelia photobombing

We spot sweet, cold blueberries on the way up. Autumn is coming.

This little trip means a lot to Mormor. From the top of the observation tower, I looked out and saw her childhood home, a little yellow house by the river.

And when I looked down I saw sisterly love. 

There Is More

There is a Great Divide in my soul; I bridge two worlds, one here, close and hot, with work and students and public transportation and hours of solitary writing, and the other, a quiet, always beautiful but nearly forgotten place high atop the globe. Even now I cannot explain how they live together in my mind.

My friend Ida dips her feet in the tea-brown waters

Evening clouds along the lake 

A fledgling waits for its mother

The quiet road ahead

An Extemporaneous Meal

Ida and I cooked a fish casserole over the summer. We invented our recipe, and it was delicious.

1 packet of frozen cod
1 packet creme fraiche (a bit like sour cream)
Basil leaves (as much as you desire)
Red onion
Lemon pepper

We dusted the cod pieces with lemon pepper and put them in the glass casserole dish. We then took a red onion and plucked a few handful of basil leaves from our basil bush and chopped them up and then mixed the blessed lot together with the creme fraiche. We smoothed this over the cod and cooked it in the oven for twenty minutes or so, and then called the whole family to come eat it with boiled taters and butter and and green peace peas.

A Shirley Temple with a strawberry

The North

There are certain things about Sweden that I remember long past the others; the beauty of the north leaves an ache inside me that cannot be cured. If you have not seen the still waters and the midnight sun and the grasses that burn with its rays behind it, then you would not understand.

Ida greets me at the door

and shows me around.

Then I hug sheep.

and look out over dusky evening fields.

Drama

 Look at the sleeves! I am so pleased with this purchase. I found it in a little shop in Holland Village and liked the colour. It's so dramatic, what with its bell sleeves and tunic length. I have worn it over my loose, black harem pants, or tucked into my high-waisted skirt, and on this particular evening, I wore it over black stockings with a pair of not-so-high heels to the Christmas party. I haven't yet bought myself a camera stand, so this picture will have to do for now. Perhaps one day I will show you a greater extent of my wardrobe.

One of the chief joys of my work is that I may dress as I please. Thus far I have worn turbans on several occasions, Gibson girl updos, high-waisted harem pants, long skirts, nautically inspired outfits of all flavours and colours (stripes preferably), and punjabi pants galore; even the time I wore tattoo sleeves and pirate pants, no one batted an eye or winced in my general direction. Either they don't much mind my curious tastes, or I've just worn them down to indifference.

I've been meaning to buy peacock earrings for three years now, but I've found them to be either too expensive or nowhere at all. I bought this pair in Little India for three dollars. Nevermind the mess in the background, though do take a look at the book on my golden side table. It is Samuel Johnson's Dictionary--a biased piece of work which reads, for example, in the following manner:

Oats. A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.

In the Park

 After our outing to Skokloster Castle, we all made our way to the Uppsala City Park to meet up with my brother and his wife Sofia, his parents-in-law Hans and Lotta, and his brother-in-law Martin and his wife Gabriella. We all get along splendidly. After our meal of potato salad, sweet grilled chicken, and chocolate cake, there was time for other things.

 Martin and my dad having a layabout in the sun

Dogpiling Joel

 Pyramid-making

Contact improvisation-ing

flexing(?)

and posing.

Skokloster Slott

Yesterday, my parents, grandparents (on my father's side) all took a trip to Skokloster Castle, built between the years 1654 and 1676 and erected by Carl Gustaf Wrangel, a major player in politics, fashion, and high society of seventeenth century Europe. Wrangel died before its completion, and the building still stands unfinished to this day. It was built primarily to impress upon his fellow bourgeoisie the might and power at his behest. He himself, owning sixteen other castles, spent only thirty days on the premises.

The church connected to the castle

An apple orchard, just like Cair Paravel's, though this one is well-tended

The castle was built above the river Mälaren, the main highway of the day, so that all the boats passing by could admire its expanse and beauty, and by extension the majesty of its lord.

Farfar waits for me on the steps, looking every bit like the lord of the castle.

Our guide

We joined a guided tour through the three levels of the castle. I am always fascinated by the many intricacies of the social hierarchy of the time. The bedroom was not the same as the bed chamber; the bed chamber was only used to receive visitors, conferring unto them the honor of having visited the lord's inner sanctum. (Louis XIV developed this to an art form in the French court, receiving visitors in various forms of undress, the more intimate the layering, the higher the honour.) Before entering the bed chamber, the visitors were asked to wait in the next room, where they were faced with a wall-sized painting of Carl Gustaf Wrangel majestically astride his gallant horse, holding the reins lightly in one hand and wielding a blood-stained rapier in the other. The visitor was expected to grow increasingly nervous at the prospect of visiting a count of such great esteem and unquestionable courage.

Did you know that the preferred physical form was pear-shaped, and that the men would wear wide breeches, garters, waistcoat (padded to give that desirable paunch), and colorful coat with sash, frilled collar, and hat complete with plume (to signify nobility).

And did you know ballet developed from the baroque period? Our guide showed us how any man of importance in the seventeenth century would enter a room. A man walked with his arms out, palms open, taking up as much space as possible, without bending his knees, which meant he swayed from side to side in a way, our guide told us, was known as 'frenching.'