padziedi, zeme

padziedi, zeme, par baltu smilgu zaļajā mežā, par zelta lapu apaļā liepā; padziedi māti viņajā pusē, zaļajā zemē, zeltajā domā, klusums kur veļas, mākoņos aizķerts

aukstā zupa neātri, jeb kā to dara malēnieši

skatījos, skatījos internetā auksto zupu receptes, bet tādu kā mūsu galā īsti neatradu; un, kā zināms, ‘mūsu galā’ gatavo pašus pareizākos ēdienus (kam nepatīk, lai iet uz savu galu vārīt). Tātad: uz 4 cilvēkiem 4 kartupeļi, ko nomizo un sagriež 1 cm kubiņos vai drusku rupjāk un liek atbilstošā ūdens daudzumā (var pielikt sāli pēc…

a brief meditation on John 6:68-69*

Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life. We believe, and we know you are the Holy One of God. (Jn. 6:68-69 NLT) Jesus stands in the middle of the road and looks at those who find his words offensive. They are the same people he fed, healed and…

trains as large cetaceans (and the butterfly unexpectedly)

maybe the trains are large animals, not unlike the blue whales, stranded, composite, growing wheels and tails and then picking their route, out of the capture, out into the wild places and fields, to see the cross-dressing hills, to roar and signal, and rear up into the cloud-bothered sky over horizons. magical trains, invoking stories,…

was clearing the rucksack and found this

a little winter poem*. i think it will look fine in the heat (such as it is) of the summer: today it snows right out of the blue they fall, correct in every aspect, criss-crossing the near to the far, cross-stitching the perspective to this silence, this mute mobility outside the glass. Snowflakes, little feathers…

some recent photo events, belatedy uploaded

due to some irony of fate or similar, i happened to be going to Cēsis and Ungurmuiža – and of course, the camera stayed at home. so here are some pics done by my mobile phone…because i could not resist. sorry for the quality, folks.   The Doll museum. Not very large, but very impressive.…

a fledgling sparrow

found this one today. too many feathers to sit in the nest. too few to really fly. pity, it would have made a wonderful sparrow one day. mother nature sometimes goes for the smartest, not the fittest, it seems (sigh).

the blackbird sings night competing*

a long whistle, a whistle, a green turn to the right, peach upon blue, tweet, chatter, breathe in the freshly cut mint, a hint of basil, orange setting, apple trees ripe for starlings, stars not emerging from dusk, make another jump into the wild-rose fragrance, dance in the twilight, watch the moon go semi-round, eyes…

puddles

most of the time it’s not so fun being grown-up. too little time, too many responsibilities, seldom any fun… but when the summer rains come, like now, and there’s enough rain to make large puddles on pavements and in strange places, and one has sandals on (because in the city one should not walk barefoot…

apparently, people contract insanity in spring

here’s this, from a student’s paper:  ‘The pathetic fallacy is a term that uses nature to express the characters or their emotions.’ this somewhat makes me wonder (annually) about what i am actually doing there at the uni. maybe i should use some nature to express my emotions. such as birches. or that would be…

the truth about my Kat

my Kat is not mythological. he has no healing powers. he sleeps everywhere. he makes weird grunting noises when happy. he wakes me up at unseemly hours. he does not even pretend to understand what i say or feel. he is easy to wash. he likes drinking from the tap, and tries to open it…

when the sun shines long enough (a limp allegory)

when the sunlight comes into my room, and i, too, am at home, i see cobwebs in the normally dark places. some are ornamental. some are dirt. ultimately even the originally ornamental cobwebs turn to dirt. who’s to blame for that? the spiders, who have laboriously woven their little webs to catch whatever insects happen…

good friday 2015

for those who wonder – i live because Christ does. there is no other way, no alternative, however crazy this sound. every good friday, for the past 20 years or so, i think of Christ’s death. of the narratives that are read and repeated endlessly for at least 15 hundred years. whom he met. who…

resizing of cats

my Kat changes his weight and size depending on external conditions. he becomes small when he wants something. he becomes light when he walks on the banister. when he decides to wake me up by jumping onto me from the window-sill, he becomes heavy. at night, when he guards me as we sleep, he grows very…

upon the event of death of Terry Pratchett

death is efficient. what else shall i say – it is efficient to the last minute detail. which makes it … deadly, i guess. or welcome, if one knows of its coming, and knows its purpose – to release the living from the burden of life. Terry Pratchett is among my favourite authors, together with…