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All those crappy crap days are worth it when Sweden pulls out all the stops like she did today. I think of Sweden as a 'she' probably because her name is Svea, at least that's what I call her (she calls me Lis, or sometimes Elisabet, whistling the s between her teeth. Swedes always seem to soften z sounds, it's so cute). How does a people decide whether the land that birthed and nurtured them is a motherland or a fatherland? Or is it just different for each individual? Or for each sex?

I never really thought about this before, at least not that thoroughly. When I think of America, I think of a woman, Lady Liberty I suppose, in her flowing robes and spiky headdress. I never see Uncle Sam as the real personality of America, he's more like her bodyguard,...or her abusive boyfriend. Although lately, as bezigebij suggests, he seems to have gotten the upper hand.

We live in farmland, rolling hills covered with squared off fields. Around here there is a lot of grass grown for hay, sugarbeets, peas and rapeseed. Today hay harvesting time kicked into gear as every field for miles around suddenly got a shave and a haycut (hee!) and traded their flowing, waving tresses for blocks and eggs and wheels of hay. The smell of freshly cut hay wafts in on the breeze, and the sun is still shining clear in a duskering sky. An evening drive garnered me the following lovely sights:
  • 2 silk-brown shining horses, standing push-me, pull-you head-to-tail. They looked as if they were in love, the kind of love that lets you lean on each other.

  • Stalky-legged storks, gangly and pointy, standing white against the stubble of a hayfield.

  • An orderly orchard of twisty gruntled trees laden with apples...or rubies; it was hard to tell, they were glowing so.

  • A yellow field polka-dotted with black birds, and later, a green field polka-dotted with white ones.*

  • An ultralight low enough to see the smile of the man sitting in it, and FOUR hot air balloons floating over the vale, one of them shaped like a big pointy-rayed sun.

The kind of back-lit summer evening that makes you think of childhood and grandparents and jumping off docks to splash around in the water with your cousins, knowing that school is just around the corner and happy because you've got shiny new school supplies and a brand-new bookbag, but it's not here yet, oh no, it's not here yet. The sun sets, and setting, seeps a shining star or two.

*Jackdaws and crows in the first, seagulls in the second.
mood: content
music: Eva Dahlgren—Jag Är Gud


I played this personification game with myself a while ago. I thought of different cities and countries and what type of person would personify them.

Amsterdam is a young, dashing man...rather trendy in an artsy sort of way. He is riding his bike through the city with a briefcase under his arm and two kids in tow.

Brussels is and elegant, older, slightly Rubenesque lady. She is wearing ruffles and pearls and offers you crumpets.

I have to disagree with you about America being a she. Lately the yang has gained control of the country's spirit.


Summer did her best down these ways today as well!

I agree with you actually, about America lately. Perhaps she's had a sex change? The lady in my vision is more the idealized dream version of America that only exists in my mind.

My nostalgic vision of America is a mother too.

Was thinking about this some more. I don't think Holland is a mother or a father, but rather a gay uncle. ;P

what a lovely description of an august evening...

it's apple pie time soon! mmm... made one today out of summer apples. do you have apples in your garden?

no, sadly, we don't. No cherries either, since the cherry tree died an ignominious death this summer. We'll have to remedy the lack of fruit trees next year. :)

we usually have more apples than we can deal with. you're welcome to come and pick some when they're ready!

I see Johannesburg, (my home town) as Jazz. It is filled with so many different cultures and each exotic person that lives there adds thier own rhythm and beat to the sounds, thus creating a Jazz vibe.

I can´t wait to hear your discription of when the leaves start changing color. You have a wonderful way with words.

I've heard such nice things about South Africa, I hope I can get there some day. And thank you :)

And when you think of Australia. If you ever do, the sex of Australia would be?

Hmmm and even to myself that is a good question, most countries have the motherland complex - but Australia is a big sprawling, mainly arid place.....where nature lies back in a very chair, and most of the animals which are indigenous to Australia are designed to just sit around not doing much, conserving their energy. Sure Kangaroos look great bouncing around, but most would prefer to be sitting under a nice dry scrape under a bush in the middle of the day - only towards dusk do they tend to get worked up...

I do think of Australia, but until this moment I had never consciously thought of how it was embodied. Definitely male, though :) Although I could be being influenced by the cursed specter of Crocodile Dundee.

Yup, Me too. Embodied as a male. Weird because I think of France as female, England Britannia...and so on....


Your beautifully descriptive posts about your surrounding landscape are always my favorites...because you do such a good job that I feel I can SEE it. Glad to hear you're having lovely days there. ~Marilyn

You write the most beautiful descriptions. I love reading posts like this one. :)

What lovely sights. Today I had lovely smells.

I really enjoyed reading your post today :)

I fell in love with Skåne the first time I saw her. Driving past the open glowing fields with red poppies in the ditches. Farmers working the land, the smell of the forest while we picked jumbo mushrooms. To me, Skåne is a more like home to me :) ... my soul felt connected.

Look after her well.

Just another example of your beautiful writing. Reading this I feel like I just got a slice of the last watermelon of the summer. Thanks for the treat.

*hands you a napkin to wipe off your chin with*

*rapturous sigh* You write, woman, you write! And how!

The hay description is my favorite - blocks and eggs and wheels - and I love nothing quite like driving past a field full of hay bales. It makes me want to run out into the field, jump onto a bale, and lay back to look at the sky.

It's so fun to see all the different shapes the farmers put hay into. There are the big rectangular blocks, and wide wheels of hay with net on the outside, and then the white-plastic-wrapped "dinosaur droppings" as one friend calls them. The only thing I never see here is haystacks, which would cause me to go jump on them every time I saw one so it's probably just as well.

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lizardek's obiter photos
lizardek's obiter photos

Feeling generous? Be my guest!

I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

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