Today is Mother’s Day in the States. They celebrate it here like we celebrate International Women’s Day on March 8. The only difference is that 8 of March is a day off, but Mother’s day is always on the second Sunday in May. However, we are always happy to celebrate Mother’s day again. And again. After all, however many times we celebrate this day is never going to be enough, since our mothers are our everything (and even more) and we can only hope that our children will be able to say something like that about us. Now for a little story, very suitable for this nice day. In the photo I post peonies. However, these are not simple peonies, but flowers with a history. They grow under the windows of my neighbor and friend, Ansley. Several years ago Ansley bought a house in my neighborhood. At Christmas, she received a postcard from former owners of the house, where they asked her not to dig up the land near the garage windows. The postcard came very timely, as the husband of Ansley, a great lover of beautiful landscape designing, had already set his sights on this part of the yard and decided what to plant there. From the letter of former owners, it turned out that when the former landlady gave birth to her daughter and came from the hospital to this house, her mother presented peony bulbs, and they planted them in the sunniest place under the windows…. Since that time every year on this place bushes grow and they bloom on Mother’s Day. Ansley, of course, waited for the spring and it happened: beautiful bushes grew up and blossomed with pale pink buds on Mother’s Day. Ansley has two wonderful children: a boy and a girl. Now every year Ansley along with the children carry flowers to the neighbors and congratulate everyone: the flowers are so heavy that the bushes are leaning towards the ground under the weight of the flowers, and she cuts them in dozens every day. I can’t describe how much these flowers inspire me: I photograph flowers, I put them in different vases, I am about to eat them, – how much I enjoy it. And here I give them to you virtually! Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!
Today is Old Russian New Year. One more opportunity to make New Year resolution, make a wish and watch “Goluboi Ogonek”, and everyone’s favorite ” Irony of Fortune”, if you miss any of that at the New Year. Happy Old Russian New Year!
Today is Victory Day! Great Victory Day. It’s not a secret that even though many other countries was involved in the Second World War and contributed to its’ Victory (and one of rare togetherness US Russia and UK), this day is most celebrated in former Soviet countries and especially in Russia. And despite of all what is happening now, hopefully it will be celebrated always. I wouldn’t even dare to write about this too much except it is a great day in history, probably the greatest holiday, but not the merry one. War veterans… They didn’t had an easy life then, they don’t have it now, but still they are so happy especially in this day, the strongest and best generation. Being abroad I miss a celebration of it and I am talking not about a parade on Red square, but seeing veterans working on streets of cities and towns, Leningrad siege survivors, kids with flowers going to internal flame, tears, so well-known war movies I personally can’t hear or see without crying. And songs. War songs. There are many of them we all know by heart. Remember this one, Bulata Okudzavy. С Днём Победы!
It’s hard not to be inspired by autumn. Leaves are unashamed in their beauty falling from the trees, leaving more light behind them, but emptiness. Sun is not hot any more, but seems to be warmer, and deeper, and you cherish its moment thinking of soon to come winter. Autumn is definitely the most beautiful season; it has always invoked diverse feelings.
I just wanted to share Continue reading
AND…after teen’s driving class, it took me six months to push myself to go to DDS office to get my driving learner’s permit. Well, I paid for practical driving classes at the same time I paid for my teen class. So, at the end of September it would be expired. I had to go and get permits to sign up for lessons behind the wheels. It was long line, huge amount of people. There were many immigrants: many languages, many accents. I easily recognized Russians, I don’t even know how. They were far and I didn’t hear them speaking, and they didn’t exactly looked Russian; however, they looked Soviet, probably Georgian. Then they diluted in the crowd. I waited and waited and finally they called my number. It happened that the lady sat at neighboring computer to take her test. Do you speak Russian? I asked her? She nodded. “No talking!”, Continue reading