*The wind threads through the golden sea of wild autumn grasses

The wind threads through the golden sea of wild autumn grasses,

the dark, heavy clouds sway across the sky.

Frost has stolen the vivid colors of the flowers,

while leaves swirl freely in the air.

Everything seems restless,

yet ready to settle,

to withdraw from summer’s grasp.

It’s the cyclical play of the changing seasons,

ancient, yet renewed with every turn.

☙

*Bandana scarf for Lotte

Finally, I can tell you for whom I made this new bandana scarf. I started it back in March for my dear friend Lotte, but never finished it at the time – life got in the way. I picked it up again and worked diligently on it from mid to late October, and just a few days ago it arrived safely in Belgium, in Lotte’s hands. When I first saw this soft lilac shade of wool, I immediately thought of her, so it was clear from the very beginning that it would be hers. It’s the fourth one I’ve made, and it definitely won’t be the last, I guess. :)

☙

*Early birds, golden leaves & cozy October knitting

{Music: Blackbird (Acoustic Cover) – Chase Eagleson + Narcissus – Jiří Horák + Flyt – Tankeflukt + Everfade – Tankeflukt}

Being with the early birds,

among wild chamomile and the first tender beams of morning light.

Reading books outside,

surrounded by the golden glow of the birch trees' foliage.

Finishing the knitted scarf for a dear friend

and wrapping gifts for upcoming birthdays.

☙

*fall memories

The weekend was a stormy one. The late October winds hasten the fall of the leaves, and soon the golden play of colors will come to an end. Some Birthdays are coming up and I like to take my time to think of fitting gifts and wrap them in a calm, peaceful mood. Making gifts is definitely one of my love languages. Maybe you heard about the different love languages of people before. The five main are: words of affirmation, quality time, gifts, acts of service and physical touch.

We haven’t had any really gloomy days so far, but I think that could change around All Saints’ and All Souls’ Day. I remember how I loved going to the graveyard around this time of year when I was a child. Sometimes there was already snow, and all the graves were decorated with floral arrangements and candles and there was this one little chapel where people were allowed to place a special candle among a sea of other candles and the room was so warm and full of light. It was so peaceful and one of my favorite fall memories.

☙

*Breathing through autumn

{Music: Wind – Brain Crain + Dream 13 (minus even) – Max Richter + Bogo –Will Oldham}

Autumn always feels like coming home.

This season is a bliss for the senses –

a gentle calling to all introverted souls.

I started picking up an unfinished knitting project

and enjoyed the very last dahlias,

the falling leaves, and the first morning frosts.

☙

*Breathing through

Twelve days have passed since my mother died.

When I try to take a deep breath, the tears follow instantly.

I've done a lot of repetitive and senseless things to keep the pain at bay.

But autumn shows itself from a beautiful angle,

I sat under the falling leaves,

I sat in the frozen meadow,

I sat in the rising sun

and I sat under the almost invisible silver of the moon.

I sat and tried to breathe through.

☙

*Ort der Stille

There aren't many pictures of my mother from when she was a child, but I wanted to share one here, along with a poem she once wrote.

Hab Sehnsucht

nach einem Ort der Stille

wo der Himmel leuchtet

und die Erde schwebt

wo dir alle zurufen

ohne Worte

du bist frei.

~

Long for a place

of silence

where the sky shines

and the earth floats

where everyone calls out to you

without words

you are free.

Mum, I really hope you have found this kind of freedom.

☙

*a deep longing

Even though those pictures were taken in summer, that time feels like a lifetime away already.

Losing my mother in this cruel way left deep scars on me. It was an ongoing torture for those who were allowed to witness or who dared to.

The ultimate comforter is everywhere, just not in your words. So I stopped searching them there. And so I feel like I haven't felt in a long time – like I felt as a teenager. Always searching for something to stuff this longing in me, I feel a strong addiction – but I don't know what for. I want out, out of this body, out of this pain, out of all the senseless conversations with people who are too afraid to go a little deeper, to meet me in the darkness, to open their eyes, because they are too afraid to see themselves in it.

So I seek comfort in the silence, in the little pauses between your words, in the rustling of the autumn leaves, in the flickering of the candle flame, in the icy morning air, in the cry of the crow that has finally found its way back to me.

It's not just the loss, it's the horror I witnessed. The imprisonment. The unquenchable pain. And when I wake up in the nights it feels as if she is still lying there and I'll never be able to find peace again.

☙

*One day after the first supermoon of the year

The moon

on Wednesday,

the day

my mother

passed away.

☙

*Between sorrow, flowers & apple trees

{Music: In The Garden: Meeting Again – Max Richter + Amsterdam – (Gregory Alan Isakov cover) Adam Youngman  + Consolation – Dmitry Evgrafov}

"If you would indeed behold the spirit of death,

open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one,

even as the river and the sea are one."

{Khalil Gibran}

☙