Just another day, but…
Winter does have some beauty.
Just when we may think winter does us in…
Spring shares hope.
Everything to see, smell, hear and feel.
Just another day, but…
Winter does have some beauty.
Just when we may think winter does us in…
Spring shares hope.
Everything to see, smell, hear and feel.
It is the middle of the northern hemisphere winter.
The time of death.
The time of life hidden.
Yet when I look at these mature apple trees, smiles of hope well up inside me.
My imagination sees apple blossoms;
Smells apple blossoms;
Tastes apples off the tree;
Tastes apple pies;
Tastes apfelcheuchli;
And having had my senses gratified, I sleep peacefully.
Please share your apple thoughts and memories.
Imagine
late April
Northern hemisphere
Spring moisture
17 degrees centigrade
cloudless sky
mid morning
faint breeze…
…just enough to stir these sweet fragrances
and you will have no doubt…
as you gently and deeply inhale…
A mature spring is about.
***Warning Hate Inside***
When I was a kid, my dad used to send me out in the front yard lawn, early spring, saying, “Get rid of the dandelions—and get out all the roots, too.”
Never, I never won that battle. Always more dandelions and always more vociferous exhortations from my dad.
Dandelion hate. Part of my childhood.
Well, I’ve grown up and now live in a new neighborhood.
And by golly did I have fun yesterday glorifying in the 500 meters above sea level central Switzerland landscape—dancing with the dandelions.
A sea, waves of dandelions in all their floriferous glory. Dancing away my hate.
Dandelions…no matter how seen,
Glowing with energy,
The light of the field.
I’m sure they have forgiven me.
Northern range of the Swiss Alps.
Last third of April–lots of spring flowers–violets going by–winter clothes put away–boom–spring snow showers.
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About this time of year, the early spring on the northern slope of the Swiss Alps in the Jungfrau Region–as the grasses first turn a full green, as the first wild primroses bloom, as the forsythia and magnolias bloom, the farmers bring out the sheep and cows–the bells and their random mystical ringing. At this same time a unique spring melody plays as the sparrows and the blackbirds greet the animals and the warmer sunny days.
The spring wild flowers in homeowners’ lawns speak Easter to my memories.
Between the mountain air and those flowering plants is an aura that feeds and frees my creative synapses. Absolutely amazing.
Some people might call it a ‘natural high’ but no. Whatever it is, it inspires, it energizes and encourages the freedom that is the base of creative thoughts, words and deeds.
How can the beauty of spring become black and white and retain its ethereality?
The same but different. We have just to live it.
…a south facing slope at 580 meters above sea level on the northern edge of the Swiss Alps…
Three long weeks ago, I came down from the Berner Oberland in Switzerland. I came down from my home in the Jungfrau Region highlands–a place of large scale Alpine geography and small scale agricultural human life.
Why go to Brussels Amsterdam Paris?
Since the mid-1960s I have regularly passed through these cultural capitals of Western civilisation. But, not once over the past two decades. I have relied, instead, on the main stream media and WWW resources to describe these cities.
Those sources had frightened me. Terrorism. Inundation by other than Western cultures. Erosion of urban public realm quality. So, I went to look.
Used a ‘5 days in 15 days’ rail pass for country to country travel. Day passes for central city core public transit travel. Stayed in 100Euro or less digs at night–central city location, clean and newish beds, clean ensuite and free 24/7 wifi.
Before I share my observations, please for those reading flahertylandscape for the first time, note that I have lived and worked in North Africa and the Middle East for more than 25 years. In those years, I lived the expatriate cross-cultural life working with people from every continent on both the northern and southern hemispheres of the earth. To be clear, living and working means real life, five senses, emotional and intellectual exchanges. Dare I say, ‘been there, done that’–no, I won’t say it because it has a subtext overflowing with hubris. Among humans, every day, I always find something new to learn–except for the basics that the Greek philosphers covered a couple millennia ago.
The following observations could be classified under: urban landscape, or urban public realm, or cultural landscape of Western civilisation. Hey, I had fun…’kinda’! 🙂
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It really is about the trip.
An American in Europe. An American auto-freak in Europe. Born in Detroit, Fisher Body, Ford, Chrysler, General Motors, the steel industry, cities built for cars, long distances in the countryside, hours in a car, big comfortable, powerful cars. In my blood.
But something about European cities changed me. These cities were not made for cars. They were made for people. In other words they were human scale, not mechanical scale. They had a comfortable, a walkable feeling. Back in the US, when I was on foot in the city–it was always a battle with cars. Not comfortable. OK, enough of that.
In 2017 Brussels Amsterdam Paris, the public transit makes getting between cities and getting around cities a breeze. I really liked it. Minus one pickpocket I, the ‘mark’, caught in the act on a Paris Metro.
Among ‘graffiti artists’ there are some great conceptualists, colorists–some take me right back to R. Crumb and the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers; but…
In the 1960s, 70s, 80s and 90s I saw Detroit change from a city of proud hard working people to a fearful city with its own no-go areas and degraded housing. The neighbourhood I grew up in, the East Side near the old Detroit City Airport and the neighbourhood where my grandparents lived, eight blocks away (my grandfather worked 50 years for the City of Detroit) are now of city blocks without houses–burnt, looted, demolished–neighborhoods with no value and without potential home builder interest. And after 50 years of degradation, nobody knows when or if there will be recovery. These neighbourhoods decreased, declined, were degraded by the behaviour of people who did not respect others’ property, did not respect the urban public realm.
These days I see graffiti and tagging of others’ property and the urban public realm as the forewarnings that such degradation is on the way. It is a sad reality that is part of human nature, human life in the later 20th and early 21th centuries in the Western civilisations and unfortunately transferring to other cultures and civilisations. It is a sign of disrespect.
In Brussels Amsterdam Paris in the architecture is the history of successful business, cultural pride and confidence. It is such a pleasure to leisurely examine these details. A real pleasure of visiting these centuries old cities and vicariously sampling their cultural, business, arts and artisan success.
After my uncomfortable non-Germanic pause at the Koln Hauptbahnhof and Dom Cathedral plaza, I had much more enjoyable encounters with the new folks occupying the Brussels Amsterdam Paris urban public realms. That’s right–enjoyable encounters–as in walking around the city centres with out feeling threatened. As if there was no immediate threat of death–and I have been close to terror and war in the Middle East and North Africa for more than 25 years.
But…all of the above ‘pleasures’ were wrapped in a visceral, an inescapable package of stool, urine and excessive noise. I have to repeat it–stool, urine and excessive noise made up the inescapable reality of the street life of the urban public realm in central city Brussels Amsterdam Paris. Worry where you step–all the time. And no escaping the noise in the urban public realm above ground and underground. There are no safe places in the urban public realms of Brussels Amsterdam Paris. Is that civilisation? Is that desirable in the public realm?
So, we all just pretend it is not problematic? It is not a health problem? It is not a sensually repulsive reality? Is this not disrespectful of the public urban realm?
But that is not new for cities, George Orwell and Victor Hugo made that clear over the 19th and 20th centuries.
And for a recent local historical perspective, in the mid-1980s, in this Alpine highland region of about 25,000 permanent population, I could not find anyone who knew what a falafel was–what to speak of actually buying a falafel wrap for an anytime snack.
Now, thirty years later, about the same population, there are more than a dozen little shops selling kebabs and falafels.
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Brussels Amsterdam Paris 2017 conclusions–go yourself to see–then draw your own.
…it is not without trepidation that I travel, from my savoured highlands, down into the infamous 21st century cities of Western Europe.
I’ll be back.