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Living the country life
I am back from another trip. More inspired than ever! I do apologize, though, to certain friends (Lisa, you know who you are) who worried my offline-ness might translate to „something bad happened“.
Nothing bad happened – I was just hanging around somewhere without internet. You know, out there, in first life. Note to self: in the time and age of „There is no offline, there is only away from keyboard“, announce any awol from the virtual life (technically, is it „awl“ then?). At least for as long as there is no way to virtually transmit the bad smell coming from your apartment that might alarm your neighbors – who might not even care since you live in one of those anonymous big city shoe boxes – but not the ones who do care but don’t live close by. Another note to self: keep notes to self short…ish.
Our friend lives in this house. She spent her childhood summers here – when it was still her grandma’s house. Pretty neat, don’t you think? Anyway. Peter and I were visiting a friend who lives the way we hope to do one day – somewhere on the Swedish countryside, growing lots of her own food, with no stupid electro smog. There was no internet. It was beautiful. Not because or despite that fact. It just was. Although we were only there from Thursday through Tuesday, this trip was a real learning and healing experience – most of all, unsurprisingly, about myself; my current state (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, … in any way) as well as my wishes for my future.
This cozy little cabin was „our room“ for the time we where there. I realized that …
- … a life closer to nature and more self-sufficient is not only what I imagine I want. It is what I do want.
- … the difference between life in the city and on the countryside is not to be underestimated. My body had a hard time adjusting to physical labor (which does not always allow for ergonomic execution), my mind had a hard time accepting that I/we took so many breaks. I felt very unproductive, although our host did not express any such complaints – or any complaints at all. Here at home I want to get through with everything I have to do as quickly as possible, there you spread out the (more physically exhausting) work over the entire days, take it slow, take time for conversations, contemplation, simply being.
- … I am especially unhappy with my job here at home.
- … the difference between the life I am currently leading, and the life I want is huge. I had an episode of deep depression the second day when I realized that gap. I had no idea how I should get from one to the other, and this uncertainty scared and frustrated me. I still don’t know but I am hopeful now.
Liverleaf – let’s turn more to the light like they do 
Hm, something’s wrong with this picture. Oh yeah: the chemtrails. 
Nothing wrong with this picture! We copiously drank tea made from calendula and dandelion – both, of course, „locally grown“ as you put it these days. 
Calendula – love the sound of the word, too. 
Before they become sunflowers. Our friend is a raw-foodie – so she, too, grows and eats a lot of sprouts. Her windowsills are a lot less „mono-cultural“ compared to ours. That’s gotta change! 
Buckwheat 
Well these tomato plantss obviously got a head start. (Look at my itty-bitty one further down …) 
Haven’t been able to find out what „tråer“ means (could be Norwegian?), nor do I – despite my general nosiness – know what’s in that bag. Just think it’s pretty. 
This is in the little cabin. I finally know how to start a fire. Yay! 
If you look closely you can maybe pretend to see the birch juice we collected in this bucket. We had no intentions of juicing this tree but when Peter removed what he thought was a dead branch – well, it turned out that it wasn’t dead. Luckily, the branch broke in a way that there was just enough left to hang that bucket. Thank you, dear birch tree, you tasted delicious! 
Despite my vertigo I managed to paint some of the eaves. Apparently this is something you need to do the first few years to make these kinds of log cabins „weatherproof“. We used a mixture of linseed oil and tar, so no poo – and it smells really good, too. 
Our friend covers her flower beds throughout the winter with a thick layer of straw/hay to protect the plants beneath from the nip. We thought it was time to pull away the blanket and get the roots out of bed but the ground was still partly frozen. When we came home I was excited to see if any of the seeds I had sown had grown anything during our absence. The score: two tomato plants are sprouting and I can see the beginning of morning glory.
Like I said: teensy tiny. 
… unlike the mint. Peter says it’s the coffee grounds but I think he just says that because it was him who thought of that, and he wants all the credit for it. My theory: this plant is just amazing!
