I love packing all I have together at one place and unpacking it again at another. But I don't love this surprise everytime: Oh, it's more than I thought it was. Still, it fits in three boxes out of which I'll live the next two weeks.
Simple socks he wished, he, who took a train down south were the flowers are blooming, this morning. 30°C south. That south, were there ist no snow blocking the tyres of his bike. To that south I will follow him soon. I have to hold my mind, it tends leaving too early, but we will stay a few more days, to enjoy frozen mornings, to ski some more and say good bye to each and every tree in front of the window, to the frozen river to those days in that peaceful place, byebye, not yet.
Reading I am, today, a paper about Forestry. In Russia. That nutshell has no less than 100 pages.
Oh no. Cars driving on asphalt. That's normal? Maybe, but it hasnt't occured for the last four months. Dark, grey streets were suddenly there, where it used to be all white. And I could hear water outdoors. Drop, drop, drop from the edge of a roof. That's not normal. It was quite upsetting cycling home this afternoon on +3°C. But I taught myselft to accept it. To be open to chages. They might bring goods. And finally the walk on the river was as it used to be, to appease me a little bit. It might change. I might change.
I've given notice on my room and it seems, that the environment is trying to reinforce the "my -time-here-in-North-Karelia-comes-to-an-end"-feelings: Todays thermometer showed something above zero, no wind, pure sunshine. Even mittens were unnecessary today. The skiing track around the corner is in a miserable state.
Is winter in his carneval costume or is this the first grin of spring? Only one week ago I wore 12 woolen socks on 2 feet and didn't go to ski without 3 pairs of mittens on two hands by -30°C.