Early autumn days when summer returns, sun glittering in the sea, and the approaching winter is revealed only by the position of the sun in the sky, the reddening of the blueberry bushes, the withering purple heath, the dark evenings. The sky, at night, black and star-spangled, infinitely beautiful; the Baltic sea, already wintery and ice-cold, as though it had never been summer (and, in fact, it hardly has). The darkness feels, somehow, liberating; it is soothing, too. The days in the beginning and middle of this week were such days: warm, sunny. Then, suddenly, summer left again, perhaps for good, it’s hard to tell yet. (I’m in the city now, though, and it matters less here.)
I keep watching how the appearance of the sea changes during the days — deep blue, silver, green, slate, turquoise… there are endless varieties, contingent on weather, time of day, and other factors known and unknown; the manifold ways the sea manifests hold immense fascination for me. Not so for mr Dog, who prefers to think about bunnies. And the neighbours’ cats, which he will — so he says — have for dinner. Unfortunately, he hurt his paw, which is why he looks a bit down in the dumps in the picture. He tried to make me chase the cats, and was upset at how useless I am. ‘I’m not at all sure why I ever got you!!’ he yelled. ‘You’re only a burden and don’t even have instincts enough to chase, kill and cook our food!’ I, possessing some insights, even if limited (by my limited human mind), had to admit he was basically right.
Anyway. There’s no tap water, no hot water (unless you boil it first); you have to get water from a communal pump a hundred or so meters away. That is perhaps the downside, but really, it works quite well, surprisingly well. On the other hand, you can brush your teeth on a beach while watching stars. You always have sand, gravel and dirt in your shoes, and feel like a forest troll most of the time. The world outside the cottage is black at night, and when you brush the bread crumbs off your tray you realise you brushed them off over and into your shoes. And so on. I’m trying to convince the gnomes they need to wear warning lights, so that I don’t accidentally trample them to death. The elves are much more cooperative in this regard, but they’re sort of shiny by nature, in a translucent way.
silver moonlight, coming in from the east, gently stroking the sea