Skärholmen Tbana, Konst Ulf Wahlberg

 

There are actually 23 panels to show the change of light and the impact 

(or really I want to use both effect/affect together, because I think there is both a change on what one can see, and what one might feel in relation to what one thinks is being seen) 

on what the viewer might be able to see from sunrise to sunset at the light changes so perhaps what shapes one is able to make out.

The panels run of the back wall of the South bound tracks.

This is one of the stations I thought I wouldn't be able to translate well. So I had taken photos years ago, but never bothered to post them (and this was before the now ye olde instagram).

The panels are displayed in such as way that an empty station and a full ten minutes to pace along and choose different vantage points to look at them are important for a real impact.  That said, they look interesting from a passenger window when the train is moving along the other track, being that far back and seeing them a bit in a way that works like a flip book is interesting.

The photos are from New Mexico- and the photos feel like the photographer was new to the desert and the way the light plays there, and wanted to try and impart that here, in a place where the landscape and the light are so very different.

 

The change back to Hökarängen has been a shock.

 There is a still a week of March left, and although I know the equinox has passed, I can see no signs of spring here.  But, my neighborhood is still a construction zone, the extension of our street, the building (and blasting of rocks to achieve this) of four new apartment complexes, and the kindergarten are still in what looks like early stages- there are container offices, huge construction vehicles.  Felled trees, open trenches with what I assume is infrastructure or upgrading/additional water mains or sewer lines.  The small woodland areas that were a large reason I liked our building so much have been diminished and I am not sure when I will get over that.  Plus I feel selfish, as there is an obvious need for housing, and I am only thinking of myself.  

 

Into the wilds go the house cat and the alley cat.

As we were displaced for about nine days, and also had a concurring opportunity to volunteer up around Soldiers Beach, on Maria Island- we decided to give tent camping a try.  We lucked into beautiful spots up where my dear neighbour took me (six!) years ago.

We had good weather, hot for Tasmania but when you are camp on the edge of various beautiful beaches, the heat can be nice.  Our state is a bit of a geological wonder- so we get white sand beaches, pink sand beaches, beaches ringed with bright orange rocks, and we even went out and saw a beach with dark red rocks.

Campsite #1, pink rocks and clear, clear water.

To be fair...Tasmanias' tourism boom can definitely be felt, there are more and more tour operators, and one morning we had a drone flying over our tent.

 Campsite # 2

 Campsite # 3, I love the imprint between the wallaby feet from its tail.

Last Campsite hours from Darlington, Maria Island.

We did have one night inside as 'someone' caught a cold as soon as we left (I have decided he might be a 'house' cat), I managed to stay well until I got home, but today, day 3 home and I am miserable.  We need to unpack, but our first 2 days home were so busy and I think mentally I knew at least we were moved back in, so I can't seem to do much today, or for very long.

I love camping, but I do also love electricity.

I think we might be destined for a camper-trailer.

The weather is still hot, and I love time in the ocean, but we leave for snow in less than 2 weeks.  I suppose a nice snowfall will set off my tan...

 

 

"Look how absurd I was when I was young" forestalls cruel criticism but it falsifies history."

Certainly, with the way I am feeling "Hazardous Edge Ahead" could have been the title for this post, however, I took a moment to go back a few years within my blog at the last five years of what I posted in February. This is usually a comfort, because my personal, internal sense of time is always off, I am too emotional a creature to have clarity-so thank you internet technology.  

Soon we have to pack up the contents of our house, which will be stored, box by box, book shelf by book shelf, into a shipping container set in our driveway.

We will leave to go camping, or couch surfing, ahead of our next 'land care' volunteer trip to Maria Island.  Thus vacating for the 5-10 days needed for the repairs on the house.  February seems to be a normal time for both house repairs and changes, as well as going to Maria Island to volunteer.

I was just on Maria having finally gotten to take a 'main-lander'- to the island.

Maria, the same as the rest of Tasmania is still enduring a huge surge in visitors.

The government of tourism stated: 1.19 million visitors (so twice the population) and a 3% increase from the mainland, raising that number above 1 million visitors. I have heard rumours that a new ferry (90 seats!) will be taking passengers from Triabunna to the island, this will make 3 public ferries, and the 1 private (a luxury all inclusive tour company). I am writing about this as a reminder to my future self, as truly the changes in our town, and our state feel (have I written this already?) like it is changing at the same exponential rate that Seattle did when I lived there in the 1990s.

We are trying to recover from our recent loss- taking stock of our options- and how to find a sense of security that we can move forward with into the next half of our lives.  I think the idea of that the Queen (U.K.) sends out letters to her citizens that reach 100 years of age- has cemented me to the idea that 50 years of age is a half way mark.

 I can not clearly express the tangle in my brain that I am trying to unravel to find out what I believe about aging.  I know I should feel lucky, and most days I do.  I know I rather deal with a bit of stress if that stress means I am facing decisions that need to be made.  But mostly I want to sit somewhere pretty and read a book.

 Which I did get to do while on Maria.

Here:

I will get some more reading done during our camping adventure.

Our very first actual camping adventure, together.

We are having storms, and violent bursts of rain instead of the usual sunny, hot February, but of course we are closer now to March - which can be very rainy.

Luckily, tents are good places to be when it rains.

Also, we can always go in the ocean, and then we might not even notice that it is raining.

Also, from the "my husband is a feeder" headlines:

 

 The apricot pastry was so good, that it was worth every bit of snarly feelings I had at the gym the morning after.

 

Vana visits, and there is snow, but not in Spain.

 Do you remember having a "best" friend?  I remember moving a lot, and not getting to make friends for very long.  I remember getting to a new place and walking up, and back, up and back, wandering the immediate area looking for kids my own age.  I do not know how the two of us became friends, I do not have the 'pat' movie origin story- but I do know how important the friendship was to my surviving and thriving during a certain time in my life.

My friend traveled thousands of miles, and we got to learn a bit about who we have become.  I feel grateful we got the chance, and grateful that we are both here to take the chance.

I feel grateful that there is someone else besides myself that remember my little brother Elric.

I feel grateful that we did actually have, true-blue American summers.  With adventures, music, riding in cars with boys on hot August nights, the world laid out before us full of promises and decisions to be made.

We broke up the visit by going to Spain, taking in some warmth, culture and Gaudi architecture (as one does...)

We returned to:

But really the snow was good too-

Stockholm is beautiful in all seasons and we got to go to Skansen for Julmarknad, and I love Skansen in the snow.

"Sometimes you learn the hard way...more than once...more than once..."

What if a person was to look back over so many years and think..." I really was not suited for this life at all."

Not in some grand epiphany way- more of a sudden realization that something that was a normal part of life, yet hard and uncomfortable could just have been avoided?

I am really just thinking about traveling...long airplane rides with many transfers.

I have noticed that my feeling of awe, that a person can fly 10,000 miles in a day has become more of a dull ache at the thought of so many hours without fresh air.  Or the nagging idea that I am taking a seat away, and by seat I mean experience from some new traveler who has years of enthusiasm ahead of them- while my enthusiasm may be lost.

But maybe I just need a break- which I intended to have as the new year started but instead we had one last large blow to a year which truly had already hit us a fair few times. Our bad luck decided to hold and when we arrived home on the 29th (so close to the new year my superstitious thinking voice was screaming...) we found out our house had been robbed, and of course damaged in the process.

I won't write about it, but I don't want to forget it, exactly, either and I do use this medium as a chronological map of life events.

So although we were of course completely unprepared for our guests whom 

arrived just a few days after our long day with the police, they have been a really good distraction.

Our Swedish friends were entranced by Tasmania- and every dark thought we might have been having was quelled by their untainted observations.

 We had some lovely drives, listening to music, seeing the 'Remarkable Cave' at low tide.

Here is a comparison:

I couldn't even tell the cave was so large when I had only seen it at high tide, there is more than one cave, and they are indeed...remarkable.

 

Then we had family come and they were of course, sympathetic and a bit grounding for us.

The shock from snow to beach and sun is large but enjoyable.

If you actually visit here to catch up on my life, I am sorry I've been out of touch.

Two seasons in one month- Christmas in the snow, and New Years at the beach

So, Zok played the role of 'Tomtefar' or Swedish Father Xmas-

There is a tradition of a family friend dressing up and coming to the apartment after the end of 'Kalle Anke' aka the very strange, truncated bits of different Disney films, mostly dubbed via a louder narrated voice talking over the original dialog, T.V. program shown each and every 'Julafton' aka Swedish Xmas, or the 24th of December.

Our friends all remember watching this each and every year of their lives, and from the vantage of our friends apartment we could see all the neighbors doing exactly as us.

Zok was smashing! The whole experience was delightful.

Our friends came in from (ahem) taking out the trash (aka dressing up Zok in a nearby apartment) and were very animated saying "Hey, Hey we think we saw Santa walking to the streets!" and we all ran out to the balcony to see Zok tramping up the road. Hilarious.

 

 Although we didn't have an actual white Christmas, we had so much snow over November I did not feel cheated in the least. I also got to go to not one xmasfair but two, the one here in Gamla Stan and the one in Chester.

Oh! I almost forgot, I also went to the traditional market at Skansen, and it was still snowing then (with my friend who was visiting).

I wish I had the ability (motivation?) to write out just what a long, somewhat hard yet laced with many inspirations and surprises this last year has been.

Looking back on this blog, I would have to guess, because as it is not a confessional diary, and I would have to know from the lack of posts what kind of year 2015 has been.

I really have more friends that any one person could deserve. I got to see many of them this year- and many helped me more than I can repay- not that friendships are or should be about some set of accounts and balances.

Really dear friends got married this year- all quietly...which I respect.

I felt tested more than once, and now as I think back...I didn't excel but I did not do anything to embarrass myself either, and I am going to just call that a win.

For every new friendship that did not work out...I think I learned that not every person will become important in one's life, and that should not feel like some sort of failure. In fact, I choose to recognize that I am fortunate to have so many opportunities.

On the subject of the mundane, the reason this blog has been neglected since our return to Sweden, has been in part to my sudden, active, social life and my decision to go back to SFI.  Swedish For Immigrants, is a subject that deserves its own post.  But let me just note that I got up at 6 a.m. (not in my nature) Monday through Friday, for maybe four months?  Due to this I was acutely aware of the growth of Stockholm, the perspective of new immigrants, the culture clashes as exemplified on my crowded, crowded, morning commute.

While I may not have actually bonded with my classmates, I did try...which for me again, is winning.

We had a lovely Christmas, as we also did last year with our neighbors, and that feels like it was yesterday, or ten years ago...

We visited a lot of people, and were visited by a lot of people this last year and the new year is started out the same way.

All of this makes me feel very positive, if albeit a little harried...but soon I'll be able to sneak off to the beach and read a book, in english.

 

 

Konst på Brommaplan Station, Peter Svedberg

The art at the Brommaplan station seems to be especially overlooked by people passing through the station. I, myself have been here with two different people that did not even notice it as I was photographing the art for this blog.

I like that the silver aluminum, with its rivets that for me scream 'Plane!', is subtle or, perhaps made subtle by the advertisements and reader boards that are all around.

Another aspect, I like is that the photographs encased in the glass are recessed, adding to what I feel like is the ghost like quality of these memory columns. Because that is what they are, photographs and an homage to the days that Brommaplan was the main airport. Now almost all traffic goes through Arlanda airport.

Mostly tourists go through this station on their way to visit Drottningholm Slott (the royal summer palace).

I do not go as often as I should, I went once during summer this year, and recently with my latest house guest.  I did find myself thinking about the first time I went, which is now over twelve years ago.  The journey seemed so far, but not that I am familiar with Stockholm, I don't consider it to be far.

The first time, I went alone, to see the theater which is an actual working 18th century theater with its original stage machinery still in use. Until I went to see an Opera there, I had only seen such a stage in movies.  The thunder machines and the fake waves moved by human hands rotating a handle hidden in the wings of the stage.  There were only tours in Swedish at the time (or perhaps I just didn't come at the correct time). This time I got to have the tour in English and my girlfriend and I were the only ones on our tour, so we got to be on stage and work both the wind/waves/and thunder.

Delightful!

I enjoyed the grounds even though we were frozen and yet there was no longer snow.

IF

a new snowfall comes I think I will drag the husband out there.

Only the top photo is of the palace, I prefer the grounds and the "Chinese" styled pavilions out past the formal gardens and the labyrinth.