À la campagne!

I am of the generation born in the countryside that emigrated to the city. For higher education, better job opportunities, an easy access to theatres and cinemas, more comfortable life and generally to have much more of anything... blah blah blah.

Secretly I suppose that I am not the only one dreaming about weeding my sweet promising carrots, picking up my own butterhead lettuce and tender stroking maturing pumpkins. I really believe that one day my garden will be blooming. I can feel it through my skin. I love rubbing the soil between my fingers to smell the land. Anywhere in the countryside everything has its proper time. Nothing is going to happen too soon or too late. You live with the weather and not in spite of. Finally there is the place for a straw hat and some orange dungarees.

Did we fall down? Hand-picked plums were asking each other. No, I was there to help with meeting with their destination. That is to be sampled and captured in jars for the winter days.



These ones could be called hopes instead of grapes. Even if they taste sourly you do hope for the future fruits. Ours taste closely to wild blueberries. Surprisingly.




Nothing more to add. Calmness and beauty.






Man's best friend. Also part of the nature.








Forest treasure inextricably linked with the countryside.




These are the children. Feel responsible. Let them live in the sun. Do not bother with vanities.Watch them growing and be proud!!!





Grant us Lord the fruitful life.