This weekend delivered all the things that make spring in Sweden unbeatable. Pretty near perfect weather, with high blue skies, warm temps, and cooling, leaf-ruffling breezes scented with lilac. The sun shines until nearly ten, sinking slowly down through a pastel rainbow of lavender, blush and blue. The moon’s a silver sliver; the evening sky speckled with stars.
A fat hedgehog trundled past the trellis yesterday evening, while we were watching ice hockey (which we’re doing again tonight, cheering on Sweden in the gold medal game of the World Championships. If they win it will be twice in a row: the score is tied at the end of the second period and both teams are on fire).
My friend Chuck recently described the place I live as a hamlet, populated by bunnies and ruled over by a benevolent king. He was right. But I should add that this weekend it was ALSO shining in the sun.
We netted the cherry tree after Karin and I got home late from raiding a friend’s garage for party stuff for the graduation bash, plus an extra cot for my nephews. It’s quite the operation and frustrating, since the tree is juuuuust too tall for us, even with the 18-meter long net tied to 2 long poles to lift up and over. It catches on every branch and twig and it takes us nearly an hour before we’ve got it in place, wrapped and knotted, and safely protecting the the bulging green bounty of soon-to-be ruby fruit from thieving birds.
Anders washed all the gazillion house windows and I feel like we’re slowly but surely making dents in the 2-page to-do list. We took the kids to see farmor, who was thrilled that Martin is home. I’m reading a second book by a writer whose style I love: it practically crackles on the page. Martin and I caught up with so-far released episodes of Westworld’s second season. I almost didn’t think about work once.
Practically perfect, indeed.