Linear view vs. Masonry View

Archive for ‘Writing’

Words

Words

Amusing, abusing, confusing, bruising, annoying

Words

Playful, syllables, contradictory, conflictory, homonyms

Words

Sharp, gentle, conflicting, peaceful, deceitful

Words

In head, in mouth, pen to paper, keyboard click, deleted

Words

Flow, pearling, block, knock, ……,

Words

Soothing, eluding, exploding, eroding, concluding

Words

Foreign, slang, academic, bureaucratic, dramatic

Words

Congregate, segregate, vindicate, mate, elaborate

Words

Cherish, embrace, think, say, write

This has been bugging my brain for some time and now I finally got it through the keyboard. I just love and hate words. Ha de Gött!

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Cherry

Cherry

Left picture taken with f/4.5 and right picture taken with f/9

The cherry tree in my garden is about ready to harvest. Thanks to the blog of Picpholio (check out his excellent blog here) I’d like to explore depth of field on this first mature cherry. Thee left picture is taken with less depth of field and the right is taken with more depth of field. You can slide the bar to see the difference. What do you think. Is one better than the other or is it just same, same but different?

So with this post I signal to my father-in-law that is about time to harvest. I can’t eat them. My stomach make wild protests for several days while my lips swells up in a Botox like way. Oh, great idea. Could be my last blog before I move to LA and go in to plastic surgery. Ha de Gött!

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Thump

Thump

Somewhere in the limbo between sleep and awake he heard a loud, thump. The feeling that something was wrong brought him to fully awake. His wife was already out of bed, screaming, “he fell, he fell out of the bunk bed”. He looked to his side of the double bed. There his son laid on the floor, the concrete floor with only a thin, so thin, carpet. The silence sent shivers down his spine.

As his wife now rounded the bed and reached their eight year old son he could hear the boy’s first sobbing.A stone fell from his heart, alive, he was alive. Gently they started to examine him to see if there was any blood. Even if the fall was a two metre drop to the floor he missed the sharp edge of the bedside table, hair short. Now the boy was crying more and louder. A call to the resort emergency service, where no-one spoke anything but the local language.

Taxi to the local emergency room. Two stressed out parents trying to explain what had happened, to hospital staff that didn’t understand. Finally after several hours a nurse came that spoke some English and could translate. As the first pale morning light reached through the windows he was carrying his little boy through long corridors to the MRI machine. Three days in hospital instead of a fun weekend at the famous resort. It took some years before the family dared to go abroad for a holiday again.

True Story, ha de gött!

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Blogging

Blogging

Last month I got notice from WP that I had been blogging for a full year now. So it is probably time to write about, blogging.

My blog was originally about writing but has now evolved to my new found interest of photography. I think everybody involved in something creative experience blockage from time to time and so do I. Good thing I have many pictures to choose from. I would like to be able to do more writing but having a full time job makes it a challenge.

Interact with my fellow bloggers is what I like most. Not that I have become a “like” junkie. But it is quite pleasing to see that someone actually see what I put up. The hardest part is commenting on others blog posts. Especially poetry as it is quite new to me, even if I did lots of rhyme with my children. Some really poor puns too. Sometimes I refrain from a comment just because I’m afraid it would be misunderstood. After all English is not my native language and I speak better than I write. So sorry if I offended anybody with my deranged humor in any comment.

Other times I just don’t comment as I don’t have anything clever to say. I wonder if it is better to just make a, well done or good, comment. Can I do that with someone writing excellent poetry or take way better photos than me? What do you think?

I’d like to thank my WordPress community, no one mentioned, none forgotten, for helping me develop my creative side. Ha de Gött!

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Grove

Grove

Sunlight dripping trough the thick leaves. Proud and tall they spread their branches in the early summer sun. Letting enough light sipp trough to the grass and flowers on the ground. A gentle breeze rustle the leaves. Accompanied by the singing birds and the buzzing of insects. The groove is a haven for bio-diversity, a northern rain forest.

Ha de Gött!

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Cuckoo Flower

Cuckoo Flower

Dear child has many names as the Swedish proverb goes. This little flower (Cardamine pratensis) must be loved in the English speaking world. I could find four, Cuckoo flower, Lady’s smock, Mayflower, or Milkmaids. In Swedish “Ängsbräsma”.

Cuckoo flower makes my imagination go, cuckoo. Referring of coarse to the film “One flew over the cuckoos’s nest” from 1975 with Jack Nicholson and directed by Milos Foreman. I quite often feel I would fit right in there, and I guess if you read by blogs you know what I mean.

Lady’s smock. Don’t know if I dare to go there. Moving along smartly to the Mayflower. Yes it starts to bloom in May so the name makes perfect sense but that’s no fun. Instead thinking of the famous ship that sailed from England to North America. Imagine the scene when they arrive and being greeted on the beach by John Wayne saying “Howdy, pilgrim”.

Milkmaids. Oh, the scene with milkmaids walk giggling over the field with buckets in their hands. Sun is shining from a clear blue sky, cows moo to be milked. Bee’s buzzing around the flowers and a cool breeze tangles the girls hair. The milk makes that special noise as it sprays to the bottom of the tin buckets. Giggling continues as they talk about this evenings dance and the boys there.

Well that’s another story. Ha de Gött!

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Calm

Calm

Calm and still water in the early spring morning. Sun has already started to warm the air. Birds singing in tree and bush. Calling for attention, a mate to pass on the DNA. Some has already laid eggs and the parents take turn to keep them warm.

Walking through the forest birds are singing but as I approach the water birds start to scream. Why do seabirds scream? The seagull couple nest out on the little islet in the bay. Safe from most predators but not all. Big commotion when a large herring gull tries to steal the eggs. The smaller seagulls loudly and fearlessly attacks the bigger birds.

After a few minutes calmness returns. I don’t know if the seagulls manage to salvage the eggs and scare the herring gulls off. I guess this was just one of many attempts for the day. With only 9°C in the water I decide not to take a swim.

Ha de Gött!

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Contraband part 2

Contraband part 2

The sun created an aura around her head as she leaned over him for a kiss. Her laughter was like the blackbirds singing in spring. He was confused. He felt no joy but instead a feeling of discomfort was throbbing in his head. The taste of blood filled his mouth instead of the soft feeling from her kiss. Her image swept away by a dark cloud and a thundering sound. Yet not irregular like thunder but more a rhythmic pounding. He came to when a bucket of ice cold water was thrown in his face. He found himself laying on his back on a steel deck. And instead of his betrothed, two rough coast guard officers leaned over him.

How did he end up here? In his hazed mind he slowly remembered, through the coast guards shouting, how he and his brother crashed into the coast guards steamboat in the thick fog. The coast guard vessel made good speed so his brothers small wooden boat was crushed by impact. They ended up in the ice cold water. He saw his brothers head sticking up over the surface just before he lost consciousness. Now he realized that the rhythmic pounding came from the steam engine.

A slap in the face face from one of the officers pulled him away from his thoughts. Over the engine noise, the ringing in his ears and the throbbing headache he tried to understand what the coast guard officers was shouting. Only with quite some effort he could make out that they spoke Norwegian. The tongue failed him when he tried to speak. All swollen and bloody as his lips. He tried to tell the officers that he was Swedish hoping they would treat him less violently. One of the officers kicked him before they went out slamming the heavy iron door shut behind them.

He was laying there on the floor all wet, in the noise and heat from the steam engine wondering if his brother made it. He cursed him for the idea of running contraband booze to Norway. Would he ever see his beloved again or rot away in a Norwegian prison cell?

This is the second part of the story contraband. Click here to read the first. Stay tuned for the continued story. Ambition is the connect it all to a novel in the future. Ha de Gött!

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Coffee Pot

Coffee Pot

I put the kettle on for you. Boiled coffee that you like so much. Pored it in our best porcelain coffee pot. You know the one with the blue and brown decorations. The coffee cups and small plates for the chocolate cake you love. Just took it out from the oven, so it is still warm. This morning I also made gingerbread cookies.

Now I sit here in the garden. It is still warm in the late summer sun. I look at the horses out on the field and listen for the sound of your car. I stroke my hand over the tablecloth that you brought from the city last visit. It was so long ago. I suppose the studies keeps you busy. Now, that must be your car! I get up and walk to the side of the house. Oh, it was only a gust of the wind.

I put the coffee pot on the small side table on the porch. The sun is starting to set behind the hills and it’s getting colder. I take all the garden furniture in also, should it start to rain. Chase some flies of the cake before I put in the pantry. Sitting down in my chair I turn the radio on and take up my knitting. In the darkness I see the headlights from your car lighting up the wall.

Story from the abandoned house. Ha de Gött!

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Egg

Egg

The dragons egg. Hard boiled in the depths of mother Earth. Frozen and shaped by ice and water. Lifted up to be ornament over the food cellar.

What if it hatches. What would come out? A cute little dragon or dinosaur. Piping for its mum. What would it eat? Flies, birds and a moose.

Grow, and grow, and grow, and grow! Would it then, take you for a snack?

Ha de Gött!

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