Autumn

This autumn has literally fallen over me, too fast, too unexpected. I know, I know, you might say, how is this possible? Halloween is just around the corner? School has began two month ago, summer far behind!
But it's all good and true, yet the summer had been lingering in my mind and mood. 

Looking every morning out of my breakfast/lunch/dining/room window, seeing the sun I have ignored the dropping temperatures. But now I begin to feel the season. We had to bring our oleanders and ficus tree inside, the hibiscus is still holding out, but it's days are numbered too.

There are fat pumpkins reminding me every day that we are at the end of October. I shudder. Still, I walk in shoes without socks...
I haven't decorated for fall, as I usually do, and so far Halloween just looks from the outside in.

Today, walking through the garden on a somewhat blustery morning, I rescued the last fallen Dahlias, glorious yellow and pink tipped beauties, together with some reddish blue Hydrangeas they now brighten my spirits and smile at me: 

Look at the glory of autumn!


We have been out for long walks with the dog, numerous 'last' sittings on our deck with hands around hot tea and still I had not felt fall.

Now suddenly I see the turning leaves, some trees almost bare. There are mountains of leaves on every corner in our neighborhood and I can smell the occasional firewood burning.
Oh, summer....my old friend!
Autumn has sneaked up on me, just as the years have. Perhaps I am holding on to that feeling of summer, realizing that my hair grows more gray under that layer of color.
Unlike fall, I do not become more colorful as I move into my next season.... 
But it is also time for bringing in the harvest.

I am slowly falling in love. I just need to change my mind set a little. Embrace the cooler air, the light falling golden through transparent trees. The mist in the morning and the high, star filled skies at night.
The promise of an golden autumn!








All pictures by V.Zlotkowski

Impressions from the South

The gate to our house on Hilton Head 2011

When I was a child the closest to the ocean I could get was the Baltic Sea at the East German coast line, with one large island - Ruegen - and several small ones, almost entirely reserved for the communist elite. Our quarters at the sea "resorts" were usually cramped and rather primitive.
The waters were cold, but the beaches pristine and often undisturbed.

Many people living up there made an extra income by renting out their garage, converted for summer rental for whole families.

Usedom 1965

If you were lucky the company you worked for would send you and your family at little cost to an organized vacation spot, a large place with dorm like living and central eating places, were you would get food stamps for your daily allowance. There were hardly any shops, smallest island traders with nothing but the bare necessities like soap, dry goods, milk, butter and bread. A bakery sold fresh rolls, that was all. People had hardly any kitchens and I remember my mother at times cooking on a two flame propane gas stove on top of a sideboard for a family of five...There was of course no air condition and summer nights were often unbearably hot.
Don't get me wrong, we children loved it and the circumstances were such, that we did not wonder about it. We did not know any better. My parents must have surely felt different about it.
My grandmother told me of wonderful beach vacations, when they rented a villa for the season, lovely beach restaurants providing fresh seafood...
It all ended with the beginning of WWII.

Zempin, ca 1925

Fast forward more then forty years at Hilton Head Island: I am sitting under the slow moving fan at a wonderfully screened in second story porch, an Carolina peach ice tea in front of me, the soft breeze caressing me. I am looking through palms towards the sea, a minute away from the beach, pelicans overhead and nothing disturbing the summer peace but the cries of the sea gulls or the occasional sounds of children nearby splashing in the pool next door.

The house we've rented for the summer is large, my in-laws spending the summer with us, our teenage children having ample space for themselves and apart from a fully functionally home away from home - actually better - since I enjoy a lovely walk - in closet (!) we miss nothing. 

Thinking back to these days many years ago, when all we had as children was a shovel and sand bucket and perhaps a beach ball it still amazes me and I am so in awe of these summer perfect days we can enjoy now. I guess these memories and impressions are strong. Every time we find ourselves in these lovely circumstances I have to think about the summers of my youth. Of course it's me and my husband, since we both experienced similar upbringings, our children basically seeing it as perfectly normal....

Hilton Head is charming, we rented bikes for the weeks we are here and getting my morning coffee at a small cafe some minutes away by bike is a lovely ritual I have established by now. There is a different rhythm at the island. 

Lively activities very early in the mornings, when the heat is still bearable and joggers, bikers and dog owners share the beach or the perfectly laid out paths through lush vegetation. There are countless spots to eat small meals, breakfasts or dinners, markets sell the freshest produce: sweet juicy peaches, cool watermelons, ripe tomatoes, plums and apricots. I hardly ever get these kind of tasty fruits in New York.
The slow days are wonderful, no extensive planing is required, we sail through them casually and lazy, from beach to pool to riding our bikes along the backwaters through the Lowcountry...

I watch the birds. I am fascinated by the prehistoric feeling of the flying pelicans. They glide effortless, hardly ever flapping their wings, but instead getting carried by the warm currents and only occasionally diving into the sea to hunt for fish.
They look like bands of hooligans, a little rough, but I love them.
I see gulls, egrets, herons, South Carolina cardinals everywhere. It is simply a paradise.
The area around Hilton Head is also one of the largest breeding grounds for dolphins. They can be seen often. 

The island has a rich history reaching back to the days of slavery, plantations, cotton picking, rice planting and the Gullah culture is still witness to those long gone days.
Savannah is nearby, the wonderfully preserved city of the old South, were I have been walking for hours already under the live oak shaded streets and dreaming my way into living in one of these beautiful houses, the old French living culture alive all around me.

People are so welcoming and the Southern drawl is incredibly charming, the slowness of living so enticing.


Perhaps my yearning for beauty and colors, great homes and design stems from those years of missing it, longing for things I only could imagine or heard from stories my grandmother told me so many years ago.


I am deeply grateful.


Greetings from the Southern coast!
Victoria






Pictures by V.Zlotkowski and via google image.

Early summer heat

The early summer heat unravels me. I try to tend the garden, but by late morning the hydrangeas look dead. Only the cooler evening air will revive them. For good measure I am going to water them longer tonight.
I hope for rain, but there are no clouds. 
The midday heat hangs heavy over the garden, the house sits quietly.
There are no sounds.

It's the year of the chipmunks, I watch them play among the flowers and bushes. They are allover the garden this year.
And oblivious to me watching them.

Later in the afternoon the sky begins to look a bit bluish gray.
And then gets solid, there is no blue left. More rumbling above.

I move outside and sit under the umbrella on the small stone patio behind the house and begin to write. I love how it has cooled enough to enjoy the garden. I feel the wind caressing my bare arms and neck, the sweat under my hair begins to dry.  It darkens more and the dog slowly walks over and stretches out next to me. He looks at me warily. The changes of weather make him always uneasy. I weigh the options for rain.
The happy sounds of the two little girls next door carry over the fence and make me smile. 
I feel the rustling of the wind in the trees around me.
My hope rises.
Birds begin to twitter again, but the swallows fly high in the sky. Too high for showers. 
  

An airplane crosses above. I can't see it but hear the faint rumble of the breaking sound barrier. 
Another stir and gust of wind, stronger now. But looking up into the sky all I see is the reemerging sunshine behind the trees, westwards over the Hudson.
It has blown over, no rain yet!








All images by V.Zlotkowski.