A ghost?

A Puppy

On an early summer afternoon my sister comes to me: "Hey, J, do you have some spare money?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Go get it and then we'll pick the puppy I've reserved."
"Excuse me? Puppy? What puppy??"
"The puppy we're going to buy. If we bring him home and tell that we paid for him and we can't take him back then he'll have to stay."

My sister is 14 and I have just started my first job. As children we always wanted to have pets but father was strongly opposed to having any pet in the flat. But my baby sister is determined to change that and she wants to make me accomplice in her plot - not a very reluctant one, I must admit. So I take the money, go with her and we bring the puppy home.

Father raged for some time, repeating, "Get rid of that thing now! Either it goes or I do."
Neither did. We'll never know how big a role mother played in making him change his mind and to what expense, but eventually that tiny whining lump of black curly fur melted his heart.

Messy

Yes, this shot is rather messy, I know... neither here nor there but it reflects my emotions quite accurately. And there is a reflection of the light through all that mess which I hope will keep on shining.

A thought

Pain doesn't care whether it was caused intentionally or not. Unwitting pain hurts every bit as much as any other kind.

Light at the end of the tunnel?

Forest...

is a comforting place, even if it looks messy at times.

Stuff

Life is not being too kind to me at present. There's nothing terribly wrong but... a number of mishaps and annoyances have been plaguing me for some time now as a result of less than healthy work atmosphere, minor health issues, past sins or merely unfortunate circumstances.

However, there is one thing that hurts beyond reason and tears at the heart... I fear (although I hope with all my being that I'm wrong) I might have lost something that has been very special and very precious to me this past year, something that has helped me grow more than I imagined possible, something that I would never ever for the life of me do anything to jeopardise.

But the circumstances and evil people conspired against this 'thing' and succeeded in damaging it, it seems. Whether or not it can be recovered, I have no idea. Time will tell, I reckon. But the waiting is driving me crazy...

What the...?

It's not been the easiest week for me... I'm rather tired and without ideas. But... there's weekend ahead so...

Day's end

The last sunrays kiss the trees goodbye... shadows begin to dance... what secrets does the forest hide?

Shadow

Tonight the Earth shadow will cover the full Moon - in other words, there will be a total Lunar eclipse. Unsurprisingly, after a number of clear days (and nights) the clouds covered the sky today and appear to be here to stay. Oh well...

The photo is obviously unrelated to the event but thought I'd post it anyway.

Wild Rose

In a shady spot besides a lonesome path beneath a mountain range grew a wild rose. The sun climbed high enough above the range to cast its soothing rays on her only for a few months a year. Barely a soul came by to admire her fragile beauty. She never blossomed before June. It was only then that the caressing sunlight tickled her buds and made her open her blossoms. And it became warm enough for an occasional bee to find her delicate fragrant blossoms and be rewarded by sweet nectar for her effort. When August drew to an end and the nights grew longer, the sun no longer had the power to shine on the rose. It became too cold for the bees to visit and only a lost butterfly, swept by the wind from who knows where, came to rest on her fading blossoms, trying to find what little nectar was left before one last desperate attempt to reach lower grounds. The rose herself began to change. The petals fell off one by one off the blossoms, leaving the pistils naked and exposed, their ovaries beginning to swell. Her shiny green leaves faded away, turning yellow and after the first bite of the frost, shrivelled and brown before falling off. Come late October, only the thorny stems remained with a few swollen red hips on top, promise of a future life. And those hips weathered the winter, waiting for an animal to spread their seeds in other, friendlier and sunnier, places.

Instead, a lone climber came by, spotted the wild rose, felt sorry for her and decided to transplant her in his garden. He dug her out and potted her in rich soil in a sunny spot beside his house. He watered her and talked to her, wishing she would grow strong and beautiful. And indeed, the rose sprouted leaves earlier than ever and blossomed profusely throughout spring and early summer. But then, all of a sudden, her leaves began to wither, her buds dried away and she was dead before the summer was over.

Meanwhile, high up in the mountains, where a bird left its droppings, a tiny wild rose began to sprout.

Pft

OK, something easy for the start of the week (my answers reflected my attitude at the moment)...

You're a Part Time Brainiac

No doubt about it, you have the potential for big brain power. But potential doesn't get you to genius. It's going to take some work. Like most smart people, you enjoy a good intellectual challenge every now and then. But you do tend to shy away from anything difficult, frustrating, or complex. Push yourself to think, learn, and explore more... even when it feels bad. You have the capacity to solve amazingly difficult problems. You just need to let yourself do it.

Are You a Brainiac?

Thin ice

A few cold nights and here it is again... The winter is still looming large.

What...

...lies beyond the bend? Is it bright or is it dark? Warm or cold?
Who knows!

Lion's Eyes

The greyness of the outside world corresponded well with her mood. The sky was covered in a thick impenetrable layer of clouds threatening to release a load of snow, or maybe rain, any time. But she knew she had things to do. So, like every morning, she dragged herself grudgingly to the bathroom only to realise 'every morning' would mean a different thing ever since. There was nobody in her bed to share the warmth, nobody to urge her to hurry up, nobody to kiss freshly applied lipstick off her lips...

She wondered how she could have let it happen. It wasn't her fault.. it couldn't have been, she had done nothing wrong. And neither was her partner's, not that she could recall. One day they were perfectly happy together, and the next thing she knew she was alone, left with only a few words scribbled on a paper torn from a notebook. "I need to breathe."

She retrieved a photograph, the one she remembered fondly from their trip to the zoo. It showed both of them posing together in front of a lion cage. She hated to see animals in captivity but she had agreed to go for the partner's sake. They had enjoyed the trip and above all each other's company but the eyes of those captive animals had haunted her for weeks to come.

She observed the photograph for a long time before she put it in her purse. "Go on, breathe," she said quietly, staring blankly through the window into the grey void, "breathe deeply, fill your lungs, take as much time as you need. But come back... please... I miss you, Daphne..."

Midas Touch In Reverse

It was one of those weeks that started promising but the further it developed the worse it got. By the end of the week, Martina had a feeling that everything she touched turned to shit.

Her job had been oppressive for a while, the atmosphere less than healthy and the superiors buzzing around with ever new demands. Coping with the workload was difficult enough without having to put up with irresponsible or incompetent, or both, colleagues or associates.

The stresses in her working environment left Martina with little energy for her social life. She had abandoned most of her activities and seldom went out for a chat with a friend or acquaintance anymore, let alone join in a party or another social gathering. She found them too unsatisfying to be worth wasting her time and energy. But she kept a few friendships she considered precious and nurtured them as best she could, trying not to jeopardise them in any way.

So, that Wednesday Martina managed to accomplish a few things that had been dragging along for a long time and felt like celebrating with a friend. She rang Michael but his mobile was off. Then she tried calling Thomas but nobody answered the phone. She thought she'd try again from home and set for the bus stop. She waited nearly half an hour for her line and when it finally arrived, it was stuffed full with passengers. She let the bus go and waited another ten minutes for the second one, only slightly less full. She entered anyway, thinking she would be almost at home had she chosen to walk in the first place. Then, three stops from her own, something screeched and broke and the bus refused to move any further. She descended while cursing profusely, and walked the rest of the way. At least the weather was fine.

She finally arrived home, almost an hour later than usual, and checked the mailbox. Among the usual spam was an official letter. What the..., she thought and then remembered the ticket she got for leaving her car in a no parking zone a few months ago. She'd had an appointment with her dentist and had been already running late as she couldn't have found a place to park so she had been left with no option. But nobody cares about that. She'd have to pay that fine.

Then she remembered she wanted to have a drink with friends and tried to call them again. Michael's mobile was still off and she remembered him telling he'd go skiing with his family. Damn! So she dialled Thomas, again with no luck. She sighed and poured herself a glass of red wine. But she couldn't drink it. She kept dialling Thomas until, much later, he finally answered, only to tell Martina that his wife had had some serious health issues and they had spent all of the afternoon in hospital and he would be unavailable until further notice.

Something broke in Martina and she reached for a bottle of brandy to drown her woes. When she was found the following morning, the bottle was three quarters empty and the remaining sleeping pills lay scattered all over the kitchen floor.

I am drawn...

...to the water in its various shapes and forms. I like the way it reflects or distorts things, or both.

Another face

...from that trek

Pretty faces

... greeted me along the mountain trail

A Trek

"Hello!"
"Hello!"
A middle-aged couple, probably husband and wife, pass me by on their way to the valley from who knows where. Greeting whomever you meet is a custom on mountain trails. But I meet more and more people who are oblivious to this unwritten rule.
I'm not on a serious trek but the sunny Saturday has lured me out like so many others. I've been walking uphill for over half an hour, partly past huge limestone boulders, partly through a forest and most of the time accompanied by the sound of water trickling down the steep slopes, gathering in small pools, cascading over the rocks. The snow is melting higher up the mountains and although it's still early February, there's a sense of spring in the air.



I walk at a steady pace, knowing my fitness is not what it used to be. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breathing becoming faster but I carry on. There's still some ice on a puddle and a few patches of snow in a shady spot. But a few metres further up a sunlit slope is yellow with blossoming coltsfoot. The forest changes its nature. Deciduous trees with their still bare limbs give way to conifers, spruce in particular, but the mountains remain hidden. Finally I catch a glimpse of a snow-capped peak but it's time for me to return to the valley.

Generations

through a glass, darkly?

Pft

I've just returned home and I'm too full to think - my digestive system seems to have claimed all the blood available so I've decided to have a bit of fun with an easy post. I snatched the idea from quilly. Nothing to do for me but click a few answers, so here's the result (and no surprise given the circumstances):-



You are late-sleepy relaxation, the half-awake moment when you realize it's morning, but you don't have to get up, because there's no place you have to be. You are that cozy spot under the covers where everything feels temporarily perfect, even if you know you'll eventually have to wiggle out and start the day. Maybe you're the artistic type, who doesn't function well on a normal schedule. Sleep's important to you, and you like the freedom of sleeping as late as you want (especially since that is closely related to the freedom to stay up as late as you want). You like to roll out of bed, put on some comfy clothes, and get a laid back start to the day. If not everything on your list gets accomplished, no worries. Your only priority is having no priorities – you just want to take things at a slow, mellow pace.

Where Now?

I drift in dark unrest and pain.
Where now? you ask, and ask again.

Ask the wild horses of the sea,
The scudding clouds' wild company,

As they are whipped when winds ride high,
Scouring the plains of earth and sky.

Not one of them could answer where,
Or guide me out of my despair.

But this I know beyond surmise -
I'll never more behold her eyes;

Yet earth contains no hiding-place
In which I could forget her face.


***

I didn't write this, of course. A great Slovenian poet did. But I find it appropriate to post a poem of his on the eve of the national cultural holiday. I doubt the bard would have wanted Slovenians to celebrate the anniversary of his death but that's exactly what we do. Are we nuts or what!

By the way, the poet's name is France Prešeren.

Mood change

Finally, the sun has shown up again. In spite of being busy I took a quick walk through the park during my break time. It felt almost like spring... the sunshine, interrupted briefly now and again by a passing cloud, the birds singing and dashing to and fro, the dogs sniffing here and there, for the most part ignoring their owners' calls, a snowdrop here and a crocus or three there emerging from the soaked soil... and yet, February has only begun and winter has not said its last word, I'm sure. But why not enjoy the early signs of spring if they are already here to savour.

The river

It's been raining for a a few days again and the Ljubljanica river has changed its nature. The usually lazy emerald green water has taken on the colour of white coffee and is running fast through the old town, making it difficult for the mallards to keep in place.

This is...

...and old photo, of course. I haven't been to the coast for ages (you can tell I miss the smell of the sea and some warm sunshine) and I'm not likely to go very soon. But right now there's just as much life in me than there is in that guy picced above. No wonder after a whole day of wrestling with other people's demands followed by hours of thinking intensively in a language other than my own. Pft, I'm knackered but the good news is my head has cleared - unlike the weather.

Rainy Saturday

What do you do on a rainy Saturday? Clean house, that's what (metaphorically rather than literally)!
I've had a headache for two days now -and that's a rare condition with me - and although it's easing off I can't think very clearly. Oh well, it will pass and so will this dreary weather, I hope.

Derring-do

"I'm not afraid of you!"
"You have no reason to be till I'm done with this delightfully smelling tuft of grass."
"You're afraid to come closer, eh? A dog that's afraid of a crow, ha! Caaaaww!"
"You can be damn well sure I'm not afraid of you. And don't you see I'm busy? Woof, I wish I knew who left this smell here. It's so... alluring!"
"Boring old dog is afraid of me! I'm coming closer, see! Hoppity hop! Now, what do you say?"
"I say, bugger off! Or else... Ooh, I wish I knew who she was! I wonder if she..."
"Or else, or else... You can't catch me, you grumpy old dog!"
"Grrrrr... I suppose you're right. But if I could fly..."
"But you can't. And so you don't know what I know. Pft!"
"And what would that be, you pestering bird?"
"I'm so not telling where that bitchy bitch lives. Good luck!"