Tuesday, 3 April 2018


1. we stumbled on an antiques warehouse near the port

2. lunch at Mon Repos, met by the loveliest staircase...

3. stroll through Kadriorg Park

4. & 5. splendour at Kadriorg Palace

6. building with beautiful bones on the outskirts of the Old Town.

Sunday, 1 April 2018


"Whatever it is you water
that is what will grow

so always water love,
not fear."

E.V. Rogina


Monday, 19 March 2018


On Saturday, we took a little escapade.
Sat on a bus through a landscape of fields,
 a dog darted across a meadow,
behind the trees the sea. 
The sun threw orange puddles over the passengers' faces,
blinded the eyes,
but no one drew the curtains for cover.
Everyone thirsty for golden heat. 

Happiness took hold in that moment.
I notice that for me a sense of happiness
often intertwines with the feeling of freedom,
 crystalized during journey-making,
even if a simple bus ride to a nearby town.

We did our customary rounds of the little boutiques,
lunch in peace,
coffee & cake at our usual haunt
under the shadow of a mural on the far wall. 
Outside the white church,
black-clad mourners gathered for a funeral. 

On the way back,
my daughter all tired and quiet after a long day,
I was mesmerized by the conversation of two ladies a row behind.
One roughly in her fifties,
the other, silver-haired, perhaps eighty or so.
They talked deeply about life, 
loneliness and its different forms,
how the elderly lady had intentionally chosen to live alone
and had no regrets.
They spoke with such respect and depth,
 as equals,
friend to friend,
leaving me gasping at how rare it was
and what a warm glow it radiated around.
 People so often talk to the elderly
as if they were children
or already removed from normality and emotions. 
And how much gets lost
when we talk past 
and not with each other. 

Teimme lauantaina retken.
Bussilla halki peltomaisemien,
yhdessä kohtaa viiletti koira pellon poikki,
sitten siinsi taas meri.
Aurinko heitteli matkalaisten sekaan oransseja läikkiään,
se sokaisi silmät 
eikä kukaan vetänyt verhoja suojaksi.
Taitaa kaikkien iho janota kultaista lämpöä.
Tunsin oloni onnelliseksi juuri tuossa.
Mietin, että minulla se onnentunne tuppaa sekoittumaan vapaudentunteeseen 
ja tiivistyy juuri matkalla,
vaikkapa sitten vaatimattomasti bussilla lähikaupunkiin. 

Perillä tutut putiikit, lounas,
kahvit Helmen pöydässä
seinämaalauksen alla. 
Valkoisen kirkon pihamaalla hautajaissaattue mustissaan.

Kotimatkalla matkasta väsynyt ja hiljainen lapsi.
Hurmioiduin kahden ruotsinkielisen rouvan keskustelusta rivi taempana. 
Toinen karkeasti viisissäkymmenissä, 
toinen jo harmaahapsinen, ehkä kahdeksankymmentä. 
He keskustelivat syvällisesti elämästä, yksinäisyydestä, 
siitä kuinka vanhempi rouva oli tietoisesti valinnut yksinelämisen 
eikä sitä kadu. 
Kunnioittavasti, syvällisesti ja tasavertaisesti, 
ystävä ystävälle,
ja  minä äimistelin sitä, 
miten harvinaista se onkaan,
kun niin usen vanhuksille puhutaan kuin lapsille 
tai kuin olisivat jo elämästä ja tunteista vieraantuneet. 
Ja miten paljon sitä jääkään paitsi,
kun puhutaan ohi eikä kanssa.

Saturday, 10 March 2018


I found myself planning our summer holiday today,
dreaming of ancient stone walls, 
sun-drenched days
– Italy. 
After a jaunt of bookmarking
& even contacting an owner,
had to dig out some pics from two summers ago, 
taken in the beautiful spot of Gordes in Provence.


Sunday, 4 March 2018


a weekend of birthday celebrations & people,
walks in a wintry landscape by the sea,
moments of quiet with a book.
it's march but winter's hanging in there,
yet it's lost its grip.
daylight lingers,
lightness inside pushes through.

i've been immersed in the words of Ali Smith,
she reignited a passion to read
that's been on a backburner for a bit. 
words like these in her book Winter,
(which I couldn't put down
despite a desire to savour,
so the only option was to read each word slowly):

“What he longs for instead, 
as he sits at the food-strewn table, 
is winter, winter itself. 
He wants the essentiality of winter, 
not this half-season grey selfsameness. 
He wants real winter where woods are sheathed in snow, 
trees emphatic with its white, 
their bareness shining and enhanced because of it, 
the ground underfoot snow-covered as if with frozen feathers 
or shredded cloud but streaked with gold through the trees from low winter sun, 
and at the end of the barely discernible track, 
along the dip in the snow that indicates a muffled path between the trees, 
the view and the woods opening to a light 
that’s itself untrodden, 
never been blemished, 
wide like an expanse of snow-sea, 
above it more snow promised, 
waiting its time in the blank of the sky.” 

i've cleared my diary for next week
 to give my joint venture the attention it craves right now.
things are exciting on the work front on so many levels
that sometimes it's a littly tricky to swith off.
but i'm learning
& loving the balance. 

wishing you a lovely Sunday evening
& light-filled week ahead. 


Monday, 26 February 2018


some weekend snapshots.
back to business as usual today
after a week of total & utter rest. 


Saturday, 24 February 2018


Today I'm flying low
& I'm not saying a word.
I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping,
the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.

But I'm taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move 
though really I'm travelling 
a terrific distance.

One of the doors 
into the temple.

~ Mary Oliver

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