there might be books about this, but summarily

to be latvian means to know your pitch from your fork, to speak a tongue designed for woods and fields, it means to have so much history that the present stops and goes backward, the future reiterating the pasts. to be latvian is to be aware

when barley fields are grizzly with green

the sun runs in patches, and clouds heap higher and higher, bleaching as they reach something closer to heaven. the redstart chirps, as his fledgling offspring try out the air and swish their tails, crimson on grey, mouths wide open. and the wind goes in waves, and again, luring the spikelets aside, to reveal the…

goose

the goose knows the magnetic poles, and can fly at night, navigating through weather and time, rain and wind, finding the track their parents have shown them only once before. the goose knows which grasses are good, which grains help you grow, how to build nest so that the younglings are safe, and where to…

a little bit of spring

so, here are the results of my ramblings in apple orchard and other places full of spring. the gallery is rather heavy on apple-blossom, but then again, apple-blossom is among world’s most beautiful flowers.

april 11, 2012 (it’s because i ran out of imagination)

the april sun has melted the snows. mostly. the sparrows run round with huge fluffy visages of feathers and bits of string if they can get any. the starlings wreak havoc on lawns, and mayhem in the branches of the trees they consider their home now. the crows have finished building the nests, and now…

digger wasp nests

i was walking on some cobblestones, and there they were – a whole colony. bright sand  cones on the greyish stone. wonderful. i have always liked the digger wasps (genus Sphex) and their creative approach to procreation.

trying it out

well, here are some more not-so-perfect pictures. the day was fiercely sunny, and i am not yet very acquainted with my camera. so, have mercy.

june

and suddenly, it is june. the greens have become saturated, the young crows learn to climb trees, and eventually to fly squeakingly, kittens romp in courtyards next to their dejected fierce mothers, students complain of too much to do all of a sudden, teachers collapse quietly, lilac blossoms, drowning out the stench or the rowans.…

tectonically yours, me

interestingly enough, i return to the thought of people as territories, land masses, places again and again. only, don’t ask me what sort of territory i am or you are. or anyone else is. i would not know. not now, anyway. the omnia mea mecum porto has some grain of truth in it: wherever you…