... like oxygen

Sunday 30 November 2008

Yesterday a young pigeon flied into my room and alighted at my computer. I thought: "I can't be your father, but I might be like an older brother and a friend for you." The young pigeon didn't hear my thoughts and flew away.


Later The Princess came with bright eyes and smile on her face. She brought me a gift - a blanket with the color of the kings. Pleasantly fluffy and soft, it filled my bedroom with passion and warmth.

The red blanket is a strange thing. It's not just a stuff which makes the place more beautiful and the bed - cosy. It predisposes to sharing and revelations. She shared my life and I shared her life. She looked through my open windows and I looked through her open windows.

Where we are?

Everywhere.

Love is like oxygen.

I'm not an angel, but I was there

Sunday 23 November 2008

The calm morning surprised me with a bright sun and a fresh air. The house was suffused with light. Everything around corresponded to my inner mood.

It was the best time to prepare our two garden fountains for the winter. The trick here has two steps: first - to stop the turn-clock placed in an underground hole and second - to drain the water in the water-pipe between the turn-clock and the tap. In that way the fountains we'll be protected from the freezing.

The first fountain was ok, but I had troubles with the second. The tap is demaged, said my father who is my private adviser too. After many efforts, finally I found a temporary decision.

But surely in the spring I'll clear my accounts with that fountain. I already have some ideas on this and later I'll share them with you.

I took a breath and then I started something new for me - The Oleander epos.

Usually the people in Haskovo plant their oleanders in used metal boxes for cheese. The last spring I planted four oleanders in the garden. They grew up and bloomed very well. Now I tried to insulate the plants against the low winter temperatures.

The result is strange, but funny. My mother helpped me to wrap the oleanders with old cloths. Then we wrapped the plants again - that way with nylons, and finally we binded fast the nylons with knitted fabrics of different colors.

Is the Christo the only one who wrap the things?
No, now we're two :)

Now the oleanders look like an avantgard art. Both in the gardening and the wrapping I own an unique style, a scent of immediate aestetic, an imagination and a creative power, but the critics just don't know me.
In Sofia there's a monument of the poetry. In my garden there's a monument of the ... they look like... well, if you have some suggestions or analogies with these covered oleanders, you can give me some free ideas in the comments section.

Wrapped oleanders

Later I closed the gaps in the treliss-vine's construction with silicon. After that I went on the roof. There I made some good things and took nice pictures.

Look to the yard

On that photo you see a part of the garage (in left), a part of the garden with the wrapped oleanders and and our summer house (and old building which we use as a store).

The garden - a closer view

A view to the surrounding houses

The local kinder garden

I love my day... Maybe soon you'll see puctures of an winter garden.

Time to say Goodbye... Happiness is the Road

Monday 17 November 2008

My weekend was separated in two parts.

Part 1

The Saturday was cloudy and I prepared the garden for the winter. The leading voice said with the words of Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman: "Time to say Goodbye".


I decorate the garden with some pots, creating nice ensembles. They lay or stand among the plants. My great pottery is a treasure for the graden. But now I cleaned the pots and I put them in the summer house. Six numbers - here they are. I felt a little sadness to part with them, but I know it's in the order of the things, it's a part from the circle of the life. I'll take them out when the snows melt and the spring bloosoms.

The six pots

Even the phlegmatic face of the autumn has its beauty. I used the chance to take few photos of the blooming autumn chrysanthemums .

The old boxshrub

Part 2

The Sunday was sunny and brighter. The main refrain in my day was Marillion's new album. For me "Happiness is the Road" is the best progressive rock album of the year. When I worked, when I made some things, I said to myself that the work is happiness.

The wall finished with plaster

I plastered the outside wall of the yard with mortar, and I sticked few stones in the small closed garden in the northwest corner of my estate. The music of the labour was triumphant in my head, but finally I remained with conviction, that the good rest is a happiness too.

My mother - the chief director, the Iron Lady of the family

Later my march with Lydia gave me more complete meaning on the idea that the road is happiness.

Another cliche - another masterpiece

Saturday 15 November 2008

I really don't know how we create miracles. We just do it. And because it happens so often, it might sounds like a cliche. But its true - we did another masterpiece!

Banitsa is the Bulgaruan response of the Italian Lasagne. I don't want to say something arrogant, because I deeply respect the kitchen of the Boot (especially pizza), but our banitsa is more tasty.

When you eat banitsa, you feel the nobility of the Bulgarian culinary genius and the wisdom of many generations of Bulgarians who grew up with that perfect food - a combination of the best pastry ever made (of course from Bulgarian grains), the unique eggs of the hens (happy to live under our warm sun), the aromatic butter of the sheeps (the smartest in the world) and the proud white cheese of the local cows (makers of the best milk in the world, the Swiss are behind them)! The people who eat banitsa are predisposed to feats, victories and achievements in every field of the life.

Home made banitsa

I bet that John Atanasoff created the first computer because his father brought the gene of Banitsa-lover in the genetic code of of his ancestors.

My mother cuts to pieces

That evening with my parents we mad that one and only masterpiece. I didn't have time to make photos during the process (my hands were dirty). Now I share with you the result and I run to eat. Bye :)

The life without electricity

Friday 14 November 2008

What the people can do when they don't have electricity in their homes?

Few days ago because of some technical trouble, we were in that condition at home. I wondered: how could I live without electricity?

So I started a conversation with my parents on the subject. The members of my family have different experiences of education, living conditions and wealth. Here are the childhood memories of three persons with their specific background.


Me

I don't have so much to say. My childhood was the ususal childhood of a usual boy in the late communist age. I remember when my father brought the new multicolor television Electron, which replaced the old black and white apparatus Temp. I remember the accumulating stove - I used it to sit on it during the winter.

In the late eighties there was a regime of the electricity and often we stayed without light in the nights. We did spend our evenings mainly singing songs. Since then I have many Bulgarian renaissance revolutionary songs in my repertoire.

Soon the electicity returned and the communist chief Todor Zhivkov fell down. New times began and then we had electricity but we didn't have much money to pay it.


My mother

She was born in a family of citizens - farmers... a strange combination. My grandfather was a fanner, devoted to his land. The life in the city had many good sides: books from the bookstores and the libraries, theatre, modern medicine and of course - electricity. In the usual evenings my mother and her older brother did read books and the whole family listened folksongs or children shows on the German radio-apparatus Blaupunct. In the rare cases without electricity they used a gas lamp and went earlier to sleep... a wise, healthy and untroubled decision.


My father

my father remembers...

He is the real expert. Dad was born in a mountain village far from here. From a current point of view his early years might be described as poor. The modest village family had low incomes, owned few pieces of land and few animals. Like the other local people, my ancestors lived in distance from the most achievements of the civilization. The water-supplies were an unseen miracle, the only way to get water was the draw-well instead . Electricity was a magical word, both strange and attractive for the child's ears.

The peasants used gas lamps all year and fireplaces during the winter. They didn't have radio or television, the electric cooker was totally unknown stuff, the donkey was the tram's alternative, but in the same time these people led very interesting social life.

Usually almost every evening the young unmarried girls made gatherings called sedyanka or poprelka. Every evening the gathering took place in a different house. The maidens did bring with them some handiwork. On the light of the gas lamp or the flames in the fireplace, some of them knitted, other - spined, other - sewed or arranged tobacco.

The young lads went from gathering to gathering, singing songs and making jokes with the girls.

The romantic side of the country life.

* * *

After that pleasant coversation, I made a conclusion: I'd like to stay without electricity sometimes but only when I choose it... especially I like to take a bath on the light of aromatic candles' ... but I'll not endure for a long time without that weal of the civilization - the electricity.

This year's clipping campaign

Tuesday 4 November 2008

I go where I want go and I stay where I want stay. I can de everything I want to, but I know that I'll never run from my roots. I will never hide from my family's past and I'll always bring it in me. I admit that the traditions, the history, the taste and the manners of my family made a seal on my thinknig and behavior. For good and for bad.

As my ancestors were sophisticated farmers, my childhood was predicted to be related with the physical work and the land.

I am grateful for all I have learned from my grandfather Georgi. I don't mean some special skills - I mean thе feeling of love to the trees, the ground, the natural food and wine and the simple life.

I am also thankful to my father who teached me how to do different things. He gave me his will, knowledge and know-how in various areas.

When I work in my garden, I have both emotional and rational experience. In fact, my wishes are still stronger than my abilities, but I'm an optimist: I believe that bit by bit, I'll reach the balance.

Armed with that combination of mighty willing and growing skills, I take care about my trellis vine. When I exert efforts, the vines repay to me with beautifil grapes. Few days ago I was surprised. Until I worked at my job, my untiring mother picked the grapes and now it was my turn to take the baton.

And like every golden autumn my heart plays the elegant and sweet song of the grapevine's clipping. A quiet joy fills my body and my soul, I take the clipper and I start... Yes, there's no mistake. In distinction with the other people, my family clips the vine branches in the autumn, not in the spring season. You ask why? I find at least two reasons:

1. We clip the vine-stocks before the leafs start falling. In that way we save the daily sweeping of the yard during the season.
2. We give a chance to the sun rays to light up and warm up the south rooms of the house's ground floor (especially the living room and the bedroom), which the trellis vine keeps in shadow and coolness in the summer. The new season requires a new strategy :)

... the history of our trelissed vine - that's the story of few generations. The years go by, new vines replace the superannuated and a younger hand takes the clipper, but the story remains the same - the men of the family care about the vine-arbour.

This year's clipping campaign passed like the previous one. First my father in the role of a military general inspected the location of the available resources - a step-ladder, a clipper and a human power. When he found that everything is ready for the attack, i.e. there're a standing step-ladder, a clipper on the table and two soldiers prepared to fight (mama and me), he undertook the beginning action. Daddy did mount the ladder and did cut few vine-twigs, explaining how much buds must leave on every branch.

Daddy in action

"Let's see what I can do here" I said to myself. The clipping area was like a large river to swim. I didn't want to stay on the beach! Take the clipper, take the mood - you will cope because you're good!

Daddy leaves the position. Mom is always like a loyal soldier by him

We changed our places and initially Daddy, in the role of mentor, observed me from below.

Of course, he made deserved remarks on the technique and the tactics of my performance, but after few minutes on the sly he went to drowse in his bed :)

Hey, Daddy knows that it's not my first vine-arbour's clipping! I know what to do. I'm the young prince of the kingdom! In few hours my yard recieved a new look.

Before...

... and after