The Crocus and the Hyacinth

Dorus (Tom Manders) sang this sweet song about a crocus and a hyachinth:

Een gele Crocus en een witte Hyacint
Stonden te vrijen op een plekkie uit de wind
Ze waren gelukkig, zo blij als een kind
Hij zoende die Crocus, en zij die witte Hyacint

Hij wilde haar trouwen, die witte Hyacint
En ging naar haar vader, voor de hand van dat kind
Pa wilde niet weten, dat zijn kind werd bemind
En hij sloeg zijn Crocus, zijn bloedeigen kind

En vader zei: Daar kan niks van kommen, weet waar je aan begint
Want de kleur van een Crocus is heel anders als van een Hyacint
Dat wordt niks anders als ellende, waar je je ook bevindt
Maar alle geliefden slaan die raad in de wind

Ze trouwden heel stiekum, en ze kregen een kind
Dat leek op een Crocus en op een Hyacint
En alle bollen negeerden de familie Hyacint
Hu, maar ach, die hadden daar geen oog voor, want je weet, liefde maakt blind

Toen, toen kwam er een expositie, van Narcis tot Hyacint
Ons echtpaar dat schreef gelijk in en natuurlijk ook voor hun kind.
En dat kreeg nou als beloning een krans met een lint
Vanwege zijn stamboom en zijn originele tint

To hear Dorus sing the song click here.

A yellow Crocus and a white Hyacinth
Were making love at a site sheltered from the wind
They were happy, as happy as a child
He kissed that Crocus, and she that white Hyacinth

He wanted to marry her, that white Hycinth
And went to her father, to ask for her hand
Dad did not want to know anything about his child being loved
And he beat his Crocus, his very own child

And dad said: nothing can become out of this, do know what you are doing
Because the colour of a Crocus is quite different than that of a Hyacinth
This will only bring you misery, wherever you will go
But like all lovers do, they ignored this advice

They married secretively, and had a child
That looked like a Crocus and like a Hyacinth
And all the bulbs ignored the family Hyacinth
But, well, they did not care about this, because as you know love makes blind.

Then, then there was an exhibition, from Daffodil to Hyacinth
And the couple registered and also their child.
And that now won a prize with a ribbon
Because of its family tree and its original colour

‘Love at the lake and on the ice’

Only a week before the snow and ice came in spring was really in the air, giving me the itch to start cleaning up and cutting back quite a few things in the garden. At the back of my mind a little voice whispering: Is this wise? Is there no more winter to come? The next week there it was: winter in a way we had not experienced for a long time. It needed some adaptation and realizing we had to take measures once we discovered a frozen pipe in the garage. Despite the double glazing the strong icy wind did peep in. On being creative in barricading the doors at night with the duvets from the guest room, I remembered the ice flowers on the windows in my bedroom at home in the '50's and how exciting it all was. No central heating and every evening the water was closed down. Changing on the ground floor, running upstairs and jumping into a frozen bedroom and cold bed.

The snowdrops that showed their faces so early disappeared quickly under a thick cover of snow. The crocusses got trodden on when leaping about the garden with our puppy.

Realizing this ice party would not last for a long time, we landed in a nice and warm verandah with a wonderful view in a hotel on the lake.

The sun warming us and watching skaters, ice hockey players, ice sailors, paragliders. Some setting off for yet another skating tour, after having had a boisterous and cheerful lunch with a crowd. Leaving their bags behind with shoes on the pier and a bottle of brandywine sticking out of their backpack.

Others returning with heroic stories of ‘having skated 2,5 hours and how absolutely fantastic it all was’. I love those sporty stories. People having excelled themselves and being so proud.

By clicking on the picture you will get a slide show, showing bigger pictures. You will see chairs on the ice and a 'koek en zopie', food and beverage for sale.

The sunshine, the blue sky, the ice – it made that everyone was up upper uppest.
It was fun to cross over between the skaters to the island where we spend time in summer. Strange also to imagine that this is the place where in summer endless boats pass each other.

The hotel had a nice slogan on the menu card because of Valentine’s day: ‘Love at the lake’. It reminded me of the Dutch saying ‘ice lovers melt'. Plenty examples in the family though of ice lovers who did not melt at all and lived happily after for many years. We lived opposite a natural ice skating rink. A wonderful meeting place for young and old. I met my first boyfriend on the ice, but he melted. Wonderful memories though of those first burning kisses on the ice. He skated on ice hockey skates and I was meant to do pirouettes on my skates. The two did not go together, the sharp hooks at the front of my skates made me crash on my knees and caused a crack in my meniscus. Today I am a spectator and say with a deep sigh: 'look how wonderful they skate …..'

Now the snow has melted completely in two days, just as quickly as the gorgeous cream on our steaming hot coffee with ship’s bitter, accompanied by some gorgeous snacks.

We lived outdoors for three days to experience it all and take it in completely. On Sunday it was snowy and grey. The riverwalk with our puppy showed crowded swans and waterbirds stepping around in the middle of the river. Quite a sight! All memories now that will amaze us when the boat plunges in the water in the spring: 'Did we walk here on ice only a couple of weeks ago?!'
One of the sailing boats in the marina was named 'Seasons End'.
This snowy and icy week was a nice seasons end.

Have a look at Fleur's lovely blog, showing some fabulous skating pictures from the air on the ice near her house: In de polder

Wishing you a Blossoming New Year

 

Every day in 'Les Trois Jardins' brings surprises. The snowdrops have been showing their white noses so early this year. The twigs of the weeping willow are turning yellow, a lot of movement going on underneath the surface of the garden. Signs of a New Beginning!

Our puppy had a successful fireworks training yesterday. Today he ignores all the banging that is going on and happily chased blackbirds in the garden.

Hermine, of the blog 'La Maison' surprised me with a lovely 'Wintergarden' seasons card by Laetitia de Haas, one of my favourite painters. Happiness is in little things, it is so delightful when someone remembers your passions.

One thing is for sure: 2012 will bring me a lot of time to enjoy art and our garden. Let's wait and see what it brings otherwise. In any case I wish you a Blossoming, Happy and Healthy 2012!
Thank you to all of my dear readers and followers!
Jacoba

Our new little angel

Pet animals are like little angels: they love and adore us, and we love and adore them. They protect us, comfort us, make us laugh, they are a bundle of joy and happiness.

Since 4 December we have a new puppy. For years on end we spent wonderful times with four previous dachshunds in this place. After Drikus went to the Forever Hunting Fields I kept looking at the site of the Dutch Dachshund Society and checking out breeder internet sites. The longhair standard red dachshund is not a popular dog at the moment, so nests are not easy to find. I did find a nest on line, and for some reason it just would not go away from my mind.
Over the last year we discussed would we yes or no start with a new puppy, and if yes we would do so in Spring. But here was this nest ... and in the end I could not sleep anymore, I just had to see the puppies.
Well, and here he is, our new little angel. He is 17 weeks old now and he helped me out with the Christmas floral arrangements I made in the garden today. He is cheeky at the moment and pinches everything he can manage to grab, his favorite game and part of growing up. I had to place the arrangements high up so he would not run off with them.

One of the dark little ones on the picture is our puppy.
He is so full of life and so lively that every time I take a picture I end up with just his tail, or just his shoulders, but never a 'look how beautiful I am' picture.

Christmas Eve it is one of my traditions to go out in the garden and sit quietly to experience the Silent Night. Earlier on I was already in the garden, Jupiter forever winking at me at the back door when I open it. In an hour's time I will be doing a tour with our new puppy in this village that is always full of noise and movements, and that will be so immensely quiet now.

Afterwards all of us will listen to the broadcast of the Night Mass from Rome: it is also one of my traditions on Christmas Eve.
I wish you all warmth, love and happiness in your heart and a very Merry Christmas filled with traditions and memories of beautiful times of togetherness.
Love from Holland,
Jacoba

Pot luck

These pictures were taken at the beginning of September.

The rainbow was magnificent, it really looked as if the place where it touched was on fire. It is not only double on this picture, later on it touched the other side and became treble. A wonderful moment. Many 'pots of luck' could be found! Lucky moments that will linger on our minds as we turn in to a winter of which everyone predicts it is going to be 'severe'. When I scroll back in my pictures and on my blog in the winter time, I realize how much I should hold on to the present, and enjoy the heaps of leaves that have to be blown away and raked, the work still to be done still in the garden. Healthy work though that keeps me in shape.

We have been lucky this year to be able to rent a tiny piece of land on an island in the lakes. The character of the island should remain natural. Everything that you plant should be asked permission for and should not have a cultivated character.

Our neighbours on the island lived it up with planting beautiful hydrangeas and the flowers below, the butterflies flying about plentiful.

The hydrangea was planted on the island as a left over indoor pot hydrangea and became a huge shrub, hanging over the waterside. The water level is so high, plants and trees must like and endure wet feet. It has lovely pointed petals, holds both blue and pink flowers.

My mother used to say: 'Jacoba cannot leave the house and garden without a bunch of picked flowers'. It has to be admitted: every garden I visit I ask 'Can I take something home from your garden?!', sounding more like a summon than a question. The world would not be the same for me without flowers. So, I went home with a few of these and am trying to make them grow, also on the island. It will be exciting what winter will have done to it all when we return in Spring.

We worked hard on the island last Saturday, the men digging a channel for electricity, the women trimming the trees and shrubs. Maybe we will be back there when the lakes are frozen over for a New Year's reception and maybe skating, but the sailing season is now definitely over, the boat on the side.

I must admit that I do fancy sitting in the house for a while and having time for other things. Plenty of manuals to read and the ins and outs on photography to be explored.

My internet connection has been very fickle and my 5 year old laptop is becoming cranky, slow, the memory full, and whatever you can experience in computer life. The keys I have used most are smooth and shiny, the . key does hardly work anymore - I have to press it a few times. The comments left on everyone's blog disappeared into cyberspace forever. Leaving me in despair and throwing the laptop in a corner. But! Last Sunday I ordered a new one, apple red, and on its way from Ireland. The garden utensils will rest in the garage for a while after Tuesday.

The hydrangeas in our garden were top heavy, the sight of them a bit sad, many of them touching the ground, full with sand. Cutting and trimming them back left me with a huge heap of flowers, appearing more in quantity than when growing as a plant. My sister, living in an appartement, will love the bunch (no sandy ones!) I will take her this afternoon.

When I woke up this morning the first thing I did was having a look on what I had done yesterday: it is OK. Sometimes you have to be rigorous in a garden.

Sailing between the sun, the moon, the stars

I am sailing, I am sailing,
home again 'cross the sea.
I am sailing, stormy waters,
to be near you, to be free.

I am flying, I am flying,
like a bird 'cross the sky.
I am flying, passing high clouds,
to be with you, to be free.

Can you hear me, can you hear me
thro' the dark night, far away,
I am dying, forever trying,
to be with you, who can say.

Can you hear me, can you hear me,
thro' the dark night far away.
I am dying, forever trying,
to be with you, who can say.

We are sailing, we are sailing,
home again 'cross the sea.
We are sailing stormy waters,
to be near you, to be free.

Oh Lord, to be near you, to be free.
Oh Lord, to be near you, to be free,
Oh Lord.

Lyric by Rod Stewart

Our gorgeous dog is sailing, flying, I do not know where he is. Chasing bunnies and chicken on the Forever Hunting Fields, playing with the previous dachshounds that lived here. Jumping from star to star in the moonlit night, who knows??
All I know is that I maybe need two pairs of sunglasses today when we go sailing, because my eyes hurt of crying, and that the silence in the house is horrendous.
Yesterday we had to call the vet to say goodbye to our dog forever.

Glorious weather

Two more weekends of sailing and enjoying the shoresides of the river and the lakes.

I am a great admirer of John Singer Sargent's paintings. Many years ago I got acquainted with his paintings through a huge fat table diary on my office desk, representing art every day. Really so much to enjoy next to all the business in that diary. A yearly Christmas gift by a pharmaceutical company, a tradition which alas they stopped. But of course, we are all digital these days.

My husband will not be painting, it is not quite his style anyway. I will not be lazing about. Apart from the sailing we will do winter preparations on where we usually stay on the waterfront and -as if my garden is not enough to keep up- I will be trimming greenery. Wonderful hydrangeas all over the place, hanging plentiful over the water line.

Our dog will snooze away in his life jacket. He is ancient and fragile, but enjoys the wind in his hair and the scents in his long nose.

The BBQ will sizzle on the island and we will sip wine as we watch the sunset with a sigh, listening to the waterbirds all around us and the silence of nature otherwise, gazing at the glitter of the water and the abundant colours all around us.

Irresistible

On a recent Thursday in the garden center (yes, the same one where I got my purple rhododendron) I bumped into but one specimen of Buddleia ‘Île de France’. At the time I did not know where to put it in the garden, so I turned away from it. You know what it is like in a garden center anyway, if it was up to me I would come home with half the contents of the store. The lovely blue color of this buddleia kept lingering on my mind. At home I reviewed the situation and decided on a place for it. Alas, when I came back on Monday it was sold.

There are many garden centers in the neighborhood. On Friday I went on yet another plant shopping spree. By then it had become a ‘must have’, but I had to settle down for a pretty Buddleia ‘Nanho Blue'.

In my second job I assisted a professor of market research and market psychology. Because of his lectures I remember well all the tricks of how things are on display and how we, silly buyers, tumble head over heels for things we cannot resist. Well, there was a birthday gift voucher itching in my handbag, so I could live it out.

I followed the routing: a hydrangea with gorgeous tiny blooms turning up, 'Pink Annabelle'. It is not easy to guess that it ended up in my cart, choosing the most fully grown plant.

Another surprise was the tomato red Echinacea, named ‘Tomato Soup’. What a wonderful name! The huge cheeky colored blooms really made me smile. Several times I have tried echinaceas, but they seem to disappear and not to perform like I see in other gardens. This one was high on display (not to be missed!) with big radiant flowers and I just had to have it because it looked so cheery. Let's keep our fingers crossed this rudbeckia will survive in my garden.

It was only the day before I had watched a video on how to go about landscaping your garden. Some very good tips and certainly taken to heart, but I must admit in the garden center I forget these tips immediately. However, with sturdy steps, having no idea where I would plant the hydrangea and the rudbeckia, I followed the signs ‘exit’, protecting myself from other buys and quandaries like walking around the garden with this question ‘where am I going to put you?’.

The double shocking pink 'Busy Lizzies' went straight into their planned baskets. Plenty of work to do in the garden, so there is not much time for blogging. Hedges to trim, lawns to be mown, a part being under reconstruction by myself, leaves and twigs falling through the wind, trees shedding their nuts already, plenty of raking to do, etc. etc. .... I'll be back once in a while, when it rains like today. But even then there is work to be done: my agaves are swimming and I don't think it is very healthy for them.

Apologies

In the Walled Garden, George Dunlop Leslie (Victorian-Edwardian painter)

It is not only that old age is creeping up on my dog, it is creeping up on me as well, it seems.

I am not so frantically blogging at the moment as there seem to be so many things taking up my attention. I do read other people's blogs though and leave comments, but I forgot what I had done to my own blog a few weeks ago. I changed settings. And see what happens today: 10 comments to moderate!!! I never logged on to my own blog since my last post. What a lovely surprise to read you all and hereby my apologies for not publishing your comments earlier.

The picture was shown on Princesa Nadie's blog. It is one of my favourites and on my list, because of the never ending flow of wonderful art she introduces to us. It is the first time this painter crosses my path.

At the spirit of the moment I change the pictures on my desktop. Being in a 'rose mood' I have placed this picture in a matching green and try to understand the painting. Lovely summer light, red picked roses on the floor and on the bench, rose petals on the floor, a beautiful 'English rose' wearing a necklace of red roses, looking composed startled, apologetic almost, holding her heart with her left hand. Maybe there is a story behind the painting, but I always like to look for myself.

Roses, roses, roses

Down the road lived a Chinese-Indonesian lady, her front garden full with roses. Every time I passed by with our dogs she would reach out 'Wait, wait ... let me pick you some of my roses'. One of those roses was Just Joey.

She could not keep up with her garden and had to move.
There are a few things I shall never forget about her and her garden. First: her lovely wedding picture and how fate destroyed the ultimate dream they were hoping to find at that moment. WW II disturbed all their plans, life and health would never be the same again. Second: the moment she moved away and the house was on sale I saw a guy with a wheel barrow full with her rose plants, carrying those roses to where??? Until today I just do not know what kept me back in saying to him: what do you think you are doing to her roses?!
The house was sold, the lady lived for a while in an elderly home where we talked about her history while eating yoghurt ice creams.
She was adorable.

It is not just that I love my purple rhododendron, I love my roses just as well. It is not until recently that I am aware roses seem to be all around me: on my coffee mug in my office, Valentine roses dangling on a string in the same office, roses on my garment prints, and a huge variety in my garden, even overtaking the roof. But that is a nice story for a future post!

Two years ago I planted Just Joey in what used to be my herb garden. It is a gorgeous rose, but somehow mine is not quite the same as was hers. It is blooming now and I just cannot get enough of looking at the phases of how the blooms unfold. Of course remeniscing on the moments with this lovely lady.

In love with a rhododendron

Occasionally I pass this newly designed and realized garden, stunning purple rhododendrons prominently shouting at me: look how beautiful we are! Every time I pass I think: ‘hmmm, interesting, what would the name be?’ Searching internet left me with a large list of purple rhodo’s and plenty of discussions, but somehow none of the pictures shown matched what my eyes at had seen on passing by.Pictures shown on labels can also be so confusing. Of course I could have dropped a note through the letter box of the owner, but somehow I was reluctant to do so. If you have just spent a fortune on a new garden you do not want anyone to copy it straight away (I would imagine). A visit to a nursery would have been one of the possibilities also to broaden my view on names and colors of rhododendrons.

The other day I had 45 minutes between meetings and decided to visit a garden center. No plan in particular and just wondering around. It is so soothing for the mind to just walk about in a garden center. There is no hurry in a garden center, every plant says to you: ‘take me home with you’, the wind gently rushes through your hair, the sun kisses your face. I do not go to garden centers when it rains.
My eyes caught a huge purple rhododendron. It seemed a miracle that this unusual color was actually there and then, and for sale.

I grew up in an environment where rhododendrons abundantly colored impressive lanes with names like the King’s Lane, Princess Lane and the Regents’ Lane. In massive high plants in reds, pinks, lilac colors. Our own garden filled with deep reds and pinks. This deep purple one is new to me. Even when I drive about I seem to see all the ‘standard’ colors, whereas when you search on internet there are so many varieties. Our gardener keeps telling me the soil in this polder land is not suitable for rhododendrons, so I have always been reluctant to buy and plant them. I am afraid I just fell in love with this one.

For three consecutive days I went back to see it. Every time there was the same garden assistant and she just smiled: ‘People have just loved this rhododendron, but everyone considers it as too big, you do not have to worry it will be gone if you do not buy it today’. The price tag was not visible and the lady warned me the price was sky high. We exchanged names and she promised me to call me before noon the next day to tell me the name and the price. She called me at 9 and said: ‘Is it not too early?!!’, ‘No, no, I am sweeping my terrace’. 40% off the price, how tempting, yet phenomenal. I still had to think it over and told her this. But you know what it is like when you have fallen in love ...

At noon I walked into the garden center once more, pottering around and then determinant to go and get it. It was funny, I turned my cart and there it was at the distance: my rhododendron ‘Monsieur Marcel Ménard’. My heart made a little jump and I went straight at it.
I looked around, plenty of assistants, but no sign of the lady I had spoken to all the time. But there she was, smiling again as if she understood my passion for this rhododendron. I said: ‘I must confess I have absolutely fallen in love with it and I am going to buy it, but how do I get it home?!?!’ More assistants, discussions, my car driven to the back side of the center, plenty of plastic as if we were wrapping up a large Christmas tree, taking the hood down of my French car. There it went with strong arms, at the back seat of my car, filling the complete car as if I was joining a flower show on wheels. I had a few worries: the zillions of bumble bees in the flowers (would they creep in my ear?) and would I come across the police, maybe finding my journey too dangerous? I could see left and partly right, and in the side mirrors, but even my head was covered in blooms. What a sight on the scenic route, people laughed, and what a relief to arrive home though! Getting such a huge rhododendron in your car is not the same as getting it out of it. My husband had dubious thoughts on this plant anyway, ‘why is it 40% off?!’, he was not too eager to give me a hand and thought I was just mad in buying such a huge plant anyhow. Well, we managed, but my husband left me to my plant the moment it ended on what we call in Holland ‘a doggy’, a wooden thing on wheels to move furniture. Nothing could discourage me; I looked for a car tow rope and started my journey. In the mean time I talked to the thrush looking at me with sharp eyes from her nest in our firewood storage, telling her I was only passing by and only delivering a wonderful new plant to the garden. My husband laughed at the sight of my ingenious way of transport when I appeared around the corner of the yew trees. He does agree it is a wonderful plant, very suitable for the position I have chosen. At the moment it is still standing in the pot on the terrace. We enjoy the bumble bees and the butterflies it attracts. I shall wait until the flowers have gone and then plant it. Or get a gardener to plant it, because I read on internet the hole you have to dig has to be three times the size of the pot and just as deep ….. Sigh ….. The things you do for love (or have to do) …

Now, what is it again when you fall in love? Love makes blind. I picked one of the blooms to put on a vase and see the flower buds opening. One of the leaves showed lice and I thought: ha ha, now I have got it! It is not the mid season, it is not because this plant was uneasy to sell, it was the lice that made it go for 40% less. Maybe my husband was more practical than I was. I just saw what I wanted to see: the purple blooms.

Never mind, I just love it, and as I promised the lady in the garden center: I am going to look after it very well. She had grown attached to it, because of the color and the bumble bees.

Internet tells me the following on this rhododendron: Compact upright plant with convex dark green leaves. Large dark purple flowers in upright trusses, with a golden flare in the throat. Stunning with creams and yellows.

Would you not fall in love with it?

Old age creeping up

Just now I had a phone call from the vet on the extra lab examinations that had to be done on our dog. More to be done next week, as there is still the puzzle of what is wrong with him. Last week we had to take him to the clinic to have him diagnosed under anaesthesia. Most of the night I spent staring at the ceiling, wondering of what might be happening to him or would be the matter with him. I just love my cats and dogs.
I was asked to stay with him as long as possible. We walked up and down the consultancy room until his nose touched the ground, disappearing in dreamland. The assistant took him up, he seemed so fragile, like a mop almost. A couple of hours later we could pick him up, staggering around a bit, but only too happy to be put in the car to be taken home.

At the beginning of March we were at Bergen aan Zee, wind force 8 almost blowing his and our ears off our heads. He used to love running along the beach. A free, independent and intelligent dog. Today his walks are limited though, old age creeping up. He loves being near us all the time, cuddling up against us.

And now, what do you think of this deck chair?! It looks so inviting, also to our dog, but there is a sign on it: do not touch. Unfortunately I cannot upload the picture any bigger than this. The beach restaurant is called 'Bruintje aan Zee', and that is a nice word play: my brown dog being near 'Brownie at Sea'.

On Sunday I was pulling weeds out of the terrace, sitting on a very low seat. He pressed his nose against me, I took him up and said: 'OK, we can weed together'. He rubbed his nose in my face, closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun, moaning: 'life is just wonderful'. I have my silly talks with him, silly words that are invented there and then.
He loves hearing 'Come on, let's go and do something in the garden'. Most of the time I put him on a day bed eventually, so that he keeps warm and sheltered. He follows everything we do through half closed eyes. The privileges of old age!

Celebration time

The other day I sat at the back of a car with an artist. She makes beautiful paintings, but today the world around her absorbs her completely. ‘A painter’s block’ being the result of all the energy draining elsewhere. ‘A painter’s block?!’ , ‘Yes, like a writer’s block’. Maybe I was not precisely tuned in and asked innocently ‘Do you keep a painter’s blog?!’. No, this was not the case. I told her I had presented myself for art classes which were about to start on Saturday morning and would last until summer. Unfortunately the classes were cancelled as the number of people necessary had not been reached. With disgust the artist said: ‘Why paint?! Everybody paints these days …’ Well, because it is so much fun to do and besides I had made nice things in the past. With so much depreciation of somebody else’s artistically talents I decided it was pointless to tell her that one my of sisters makes wonderful still lives and that the youngest one runs her own gallery with her magnificent huge and colorful paintings.

We changed the subject and discussed the world passing by in the car, the full moon lighting up the lakes.

With painting in my mind I googled for daffodils the next day and placed a lovely daffodil painting as background on my laptop. After having seen this popping up a couple of times I realized that somewhere there should be a daffodil attempt by myself in watercolor. Looking at it now it seems unfinished, but it is fun to look at and certainly encourages me to take this up again once I am out of the rat race. They are just exercises, but I like them when I look at them because of their color.

In autumn I planted a variety of bulbs. At the moment I am watching anxiously what will become of them. The daffodils already present in the garden have been showing their faces abundantly: white, yellow, tête à têtes which I have collected from everyone who throws them out once they have finished blooming in a pot. They re-live in my garden.

Unfortunately I am experiencing huge problems with my laptop. All my photographs, texts, etc. have disappeared; the system keeps throwing me off the internet. I am heart broken and it is so frustrating, but there are worse things going on in the world right now than my pictures. Of course I hope we will be able to retrieve one or two things.

Talking about painter’s and writer’s blocks: I had a bit of blogger block. The huge amount of pornographic spam that kept streaming in at the post that I loved best myself - ‘A geisha teacup’ - forced me to delete this from the blog. I just do not understand the fun of spamming.

Spring is full of busy moments: the garden has to be done, the boat has to be brushed up before she plunges in the water on 4 April, my ancient dog needs a lot of attention, tremendous and fabulous things workwise happening, and last but not least: a nasty cold that would not disappear after the long and cold winter running me down and making it impossible to do as much as I want to.

The sun shines! My boat is waiting for the final touch today, many subjects in my head to write about!

It is celebration time today: it is now exactly one year ago since I started blogging. It was great fun to do and I have so enjoyed everyone’s creativity. New and unexpected followers recently and I thank you all for your wonderful comments!

The water colors I show you here were made 23 years ago and have been sitting on a shelf all this time. This is the nice thing of blogging: you can show things to the world that are normally hidden in drawers, on shelves, or just for the odd one to see at home.

Soon you will be reading my comments on your blogs, as I have not been around your blogs for a while. Happy weekend!

Award Free Blog and a bit of Dutch courage

By it seems Dutch sailors drank a lot of Dutch gin to fight the English in the thirty years of war against them in the 1600's. The misleading fact is that it did not keep them as warm as they thought it would do, but it did overcome their fear to face the enemy. What is even worse is that they were given a bottle of gin as part of their wages. Ever since Dutch courage remained an expression, or a remedy, against difficult moments.

Now! I need a bit of Dutch courage ...

On 31 January, Rita, with her wonderful blog Shabby Chic Roses, http://ritashabbychicrose.blogspot.com, awarded me with the Stylish Blogger Award. Busy as I am I did not notice this wonderful surprise until almost a week later.



On 20 February Jesse, with his three incredible art blogs, http://theartofjesse.blogspot.com surprised me just as much with the same award.

Thank you so much Rita and Jesse! I am immensely honoured. I love reading both your blogs and enjoy your creativity, each in your own very special way.

When you receive an award you have to do something with it. Here comes the problem. I have to sit up straigth and take a deep breath to confess that this is a big hang up for me. The conditions stated, naming things about myself and nominating other blogs, is not the problem. It is easy to state things about myself and it is easy to make a huge list of wonderful blogs which deserve the award just as much, but I resent doing this so much because I think I impose on other people. For the past weeks I have not been able to post anything that I had in mind because of this. So - and here I need the courage to write it down - I have decided to make this an Award Free Blog.

I read many many blogs and thoroughly enjoy all the blogs I follow. Sometimes it seems one big family in Blogland, not only sharing creativity, but also ups and downs. Juliana has been ill for a long time, Natasha experienced the biblical floods in Queensland, Marja is still feeling the after shakes of the earthquake in Christchurch. You follow the news and think: how will Marja be, how will Natasha's family get out of the aftermath, how will Juliana recover?
At other times I sit behind my computer and am absolutely flabbergasted about everyone's creativity.

I need freedom, I need to be free as a bird in the tree tops of Les Trois Jardins.


Maybe I should pour myself a glass of Dutch gin now and press the button 'publish'.
It is cold out here, it is snowing again, whereas the snow drops and the crocusses were promising something else. Hopefully there are no ennemies out there.

Wishing you all a wonderful day and wonderful times in Blogland. I shall look forward to your comments because they are great fun, and I shall comment on your blogs with the same enthousiasm.

Starling swarms

After missing out on the total Moon Eclipse on 21 December 2010, because of the cloudy skies, I was determined not to miss out on the Sun Eclipse on 4 January 2011. The article on the subject in the morning newspaper was promising, so I took the text to heart and set off to work in the car with my camera ready. The eclipse would take place at 3˚ at the horizon and could only be seen out in the open.
As the route is through plenty of Dutch polder land, with a 180 ˚ view, I was convinced I would be able see it. But no such luck! The sun was rising on the horizon in wintery icy pink, the sky turned grey and it became obvious once again that one of the wonders of our universe was not going to be experienced (by me).


Illustration by Rein Stuurman in Ko Zweeres' 'Vogels om ons heen' - MCMLXVI

After a very busy day of catching up on two weeks of seasons holidays all of a sudden there was the sound of a starling, and a hundred shrieking noises following. Starling swarms passing close by in a wonderful choreography, going, coming back, starting off again from the roof right above my head.





The movements of the starling swarms are a spectacular happening between the tall buildings, over and over again. It never seizes to amaze me. Seeing this once more on Tuesday afternoon made up for what I had missed in the morning. The environment is open, right on the edge of town. Plenty of food to find and deciphering their 'talk', the messages they pass on to each other would be so interesting.
It was fun to edit the pictures in Picasa, taken through the glass window, reflecting items of the interior.



In the summer we had scaffolding up for renovations of the building. Two rooks appeared every day late in the afternoon. One of them was persistent in catching my roommate’s attention, turning its head to the left, to the right, coming closer to the window all the time. Not only this: it took the steps, going up to another level – every day the same ritual. It was amazing. Apart from this they seemed to do some meditation in the sunset. I have observed this often with my dogs and my cats: they place themselves in a spot where they catch the last sun rays, face towards the sun, curled up, in total happiness it seems.

Not only looking out and up from my room is wonderful, looking down is just the same. The sun is warming up the earth. A changing glow arrives on the tree tops.
The gardens in my work environment are worthwhile spending more time on in next posts. You can walk out of a door and forget completely that you have just left a huge building. A building so huge that when you go into it you are absorbed by it and the outer world does not seem to exist anymore. I am very privileged to have a room with such a magnificent view and so in touch with the outer world. On going home I hear the endless loud conversations of the starlings as I walk to the parking garage.



The spring itch has affected the gardeners: they are renovating the terrace. Soon we will be sitting out there at lunch time, looking out on a wide rectangular pond with in the distance two buildings called ‘The Popes’.

Licht

Gelukkig dat
het licht bestaat

en dat het met
me doet en praat

en dat ik weet
dat ik er vandaan

kom, van het licht
of hoe dat heet

Hans Andreus


Blauwe luchten, de regenboog, sterren om zo van de hemel te plukken. Sneeuwklokjes, tulpen, narcissen die zich laten zien: het gebeurde allemaal op deze eerste en tweede dag van het nieuwe jaar. Nieuwjaarsochtend was ik verbaasd dat alle sneeuw helemaal verdwenen was. Waar was die betoverde wereld gebleven? Ik wilde nog naar het bos voor een lange wandeling. Als ik mijn blog teruglees heb ik het niet gedroomd ... Een beetje overmoedig heb ik met blote benen en voeten in Birkenstocks blad geveegd op het terras. Ik moest iets doen in het heldere licht. Een optimische start in de tuin.
Het gescharrel van de tortelduiven doet me denken aan mijn eerste baantje. In de wetenschappelijke bibliotheek op de eerste verdieping van het statige pand zat in januari een collega met de ramen wijd open te zonnebaden. De duiven die daar in de bomen zaten maakten elkaar al het hof.

De vijver begint te smelten.



Deze tulp is kennelijk ongemerkt weggerold. Ik heb ze kriskras geplant en ben benieuwd hoe het er uiteindelijk uit zal zien.



Scherven brengen geluk!
Ieder jaar overkomt het me dat bloempotten kapotvriezen.



Oud en nieuw: de (uitgebloeide) bloemen en nieuwe knoppen van de klimhortensia zijn mooi om te gebruiken. Ze belanden steevast samengebonden in de kerstkrans op de voordeur.



Januari blijft feestelijk: nieuwjaarsrecepties op mijn werk (ja, meervoud), van het verenigingsleven en bij vrienden.



De gastvrouw gaat over 10 dagen met pensioen en had daarom alvast haar Griekse pantoffels aangetrokken, de teckel dacht: ik ben wel uitgenodigd, maar wanneer krijg ik nou eens iets om te snoepen? Een gast had haar slag geslagen in de uitverkoop, het prijskaartje zat nog aan haar jasje. Met teamwork werd het eraf gehaald. Hoe veel bubbles zitten er nu ook al weer (wetenschappelijk bewezen, zegt mijn echtgenoot) in een glas champagne?!

Voorlopig blijven de kabouters nog even het werk alleen doen in de tuin, want morgenochtend gaat vroeg de wekker en ga ik weer de wereld in.