That is my lesson for the day. I wonder if I will ever actually learn that lesson myself. I'm okay with bringing the salted water to the boil and carefully putting in my homemade gnocchi. You ought to wait by the stove until the water begins to boil again and the lovely little gnocchi rise to the surface as it is so easy for it to all boil over. I should know, as I always but always turn my back at a crucial moment (maybe to grate a little parmesan cheese or check the garlic bread in the oven) and look up to find litres of water happily spilling over the sides of the pot and on to my stove top. Just as well it's an electric stove, isn't it?

I was making the gnocchi as Lars-Göran's youngest daughter came over for lunch and this is her favourite dish. She only eats it here as no-one else knows how to make it, so I'm always happy to prepare it for her. She has recently moved out of home and is sharing an apartment in the southern suburbs of Stockholm with several girlfriends. Of course they are no doubt living on three-minute noodles most of the week, so it's nice to fill her up with proper food, fresh vegetables and her favourite blueberry pie when she drops by.

She loved our doormat so much that she took it home with her. I offered to buy them a new one and drop it off to their apartment instead, but with the typical impatience of youth she wanted it today, so I cleaned it and gave it to her, along with our spare vacuum cleaner. At least she didn't bring her dirty laundry with her!





This week's full moon brought a special gift, the return of more birds to Nynäshamn. Huge flocks of birds flew over the town just before dawn on Wednesday. I listened to the rhythmic beating of their wings and knew that the majestic geese were heading northwards to their summer home. And this time also marks the beginning of spring here.

Tomorrow it is the vernal equinox. The word vernal means spring; equinox means equal night. So tomorrow, night and day are the same length, each lasting exactly twelve hours on this day.

In ancient times before Easter was celebrated, people connected spring with the return of life to the earth. The return of spring in ancient times was of more consequence than it is to us today because winter food storages ended, crops could be planted and people didn't have to worry about how to stay warm. In our more modern world we focus on the joys of more light, of life returning to the fields and SAD crawling away to its dark pit to hide for another summer. Looking out at the snowy landscape melting away in the warm sun, I think about the wonders hiding beneath the earth, just waiting for the sun and rain to coax them forth again. It's so good to see the street again after months of being under a white blanket.




It is easy to love Spring. Throughout the ages, humans have taken a natural delight in participating in Spring's approach and joyously welcoming her arrival. Spring is the season of birth. It is the time to exclaim over the wonder of children - children of every species of life. It is the time to exclaim over childhood itself and new beginnings. I can't wait for it all to burst into life. But for the moment we have to endure the mushy, muddy spring thaw that turns the streets from ice skating rinks into ponds.




Anyway, for me there is one thing, and only one thing which marks the first day of spring. No, it's not the vernal equinox. Not even the sound of the first woodpecker nor the first daffodil or crocus peeping up through the soil. Spring officially begins on the first day of the year that I buy an iced coffee. If it is sunny with temperatures above zero next week, I might indulge. It's too bad that temperatures are forecast to be dropping this week.

What season is it again?

On a more sombre note, the Australian expat community in Stockholm were shocked and saddened by the murder and dismemberment of Canberra woman Nina Peltonen by her Swedish partner here last week. It is a tragic case and my heart goes out to her family and to the innocent victims caught up in this mess - the children. I feel terrible knowing that they were here only a couple of months, obviously feeling isolated and unhappy in the harsh Swedish winter and none of us knew about it. I wonder what could have been if only she had reached out to the Australian community here. There are some fantastic, helpful and very supportive Aussies in Stockholm who maybe could have made a difference, helped with the isolation, the language and the culture shock or just been a friendly face in a stange land, far from home. Goodness knows we all need a dose of that from time to time.

Sometimes life in another land, far from your support systems and the familiarity of family, friends, a shared language and culture can be very hard.