Let's talk about Home

 Home is where the Heart is, that is so true.

And my Heart feels so at home in the tiny Friesian fishing village I live.
A British friend once said: 'You are living the British dream: a cottage near the sea, a dog, wellies, baking your own bread and apple pie'.

I can only agree with her. I live a dream in a place I dearly love.
Close to the magnificent Wadden Sea, endless horizons allowing my thoughts to fly away. The wind whispering raindrops in my ears, the sun colouring my cheeks, the clouds embracing me and the moon sparkling my eyes.
The villagers who are ever so friendly, non judging. Here is where I can be I, nothing more and nothing less.

Yet it is Autumn and my Heart wanders off, following my Scandinavian (and even Viking) roots as well as the little percentage of Celtic.
My Heart flies with my thoughts to the North to walk through the forests, listening to the rustling colouring leaves, the nightfrost, silence, the smell of a welcoming log fire.
Old stories told by generations of ancestors.

A happy still devided Heart. And seeking a balance I sometimes retreat to my mental Isle either in my cosy cottage or walking the wetlands with my dog.

DNA and Genes are often part of my thoughts.
My ancestral DNA test in 2018 was a confirmation of who I am, why I feel so much at home in Scandinavia, the Northern parts of the UK and in Scotland. 
Why Celtic music and the emotional sounds of old Viking songs can bring tear to my eyes, causing a 'hemlängtan' (homesickness) to that other world.


Although I like the Northern Summers with the long days, my Heart craves for Autumn and Winter.
This is where I get my energy from, feeling so very much alive, so happy, so complete.

Yes, I asked myself why these two seasons but I don't know.
Born in Summer I should be a Summer's child but I am not. Every year again I look forward to Autumn with the shorter and colder days.
The dark evenings, the brighter stars during frosty cloudless nights.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema
Fjorden Norway

Candle light, log fires, a book, my favourite magazin, hot chocolate.
My dog and cat cuddled up next to me on the sofa, bird Idun at my feet.
To me this is Heaven, to me this is home, where my Heart is.

So where does my Heart belongs to? First and foremost it belongs to me and I take it with me everywhere I go. 
It sometimes ticks the same rithm as my emotions, my longings. And I follow it, allowing myself to fly.


A few years ago I wrote on my other Blog 'Helen Varras' Story Book', a story called The Sitter, based on a 17th century portrait of a man.
Although the story is pure fiction, my Heart was very much involved. During the writing it lived in this story, that place and that era.

Home is where the Heart is............

Wherever you are, live, travel, your Heart is there too.
Allow yourself to dream in the past. And the future, even when these dreams remain dreams.

Love,

Helen

Let's talk about the 'Man Flu'

This time of year, Winter, is known for the Flu flying around infecting old and young, male and female.
Half my village was ill due to a Flu to which an anti Flu injection was of no help: this typical Flu was not included....

I am very grateful that up till now and although I hugged a Flu victim, I haven't had any Flu symptoms at all. To be honest, I can not even remember when I had the Flu or when I caught a cold.
So no high temperatures, running noses, red eyes, sneezing and coughing, feeling extremely miserable for me.

For the healthy ones amongst us a Flu might not sound very serious and of course only temporary, but it can effect daily life tremendously. Feeling really ill and still being expected to do your daily (household) choruses and / or your job, is very disturbing.
And when you are a woman, you do not want to give in because you can not be missed (where ever you are needed). Who is preparing breakfast? Evening meals? Bringing the kids to school? Walking the dog? Doing the laundry? Etcetera, etcetera.

Not your male partner, he has this very busy and most important job with meetings and what ever more. Until.......
Yes, until he catches the 'Man Flu'. Far more worse than we females can imagine. The worst thing that can happen is catching it the same time. Blessed the ones with no other obligations than staying in bed with bottles of water to prevent dehydration and maybe a litre or so orange juice. And not to forget Paracetamol, boxes of tissues and paper bins to dispose them.

Where the majority of females suffer in silence, men suffer loudly. In our opinion they turn into feeble and moaning boys, exaggerating the severity of the symptoms.
The best thing you can do is making a bed on the sofa or move to the guest bedroom. What ever you do, the mourning and puffing will be heard throughout the house. You sigh and decide it is better to get up and care for him although you feel too sick to do so. But you are the caring female with the responsibility to look after the one you love. So up and running you are, suffering in silence but too proud to admit you would rather stay in bed.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography ©

That Man Flu......
Ladies let me tell you, it exists! There truly is a Man Flu! Men do suffer more than women!
Dr Kyle Sue, a clinical assistant professor at Memorial University of Newfoundland, analysed relevant research and found evidence that adult men have a higher risk of hospital admission and higher rates of influenza-associated deaths compared with women, regardless of underlying disease.
Dr Sue also found that men are more susceptible to complications and higher mortality from many acute respiratory diseases, while some evidence supported men suffering more from viral respiratory illness than women because they have a less robust immune system.

Research has also found that pre-menopausal women are better at fighting off the common cold, thanks to a study of male and female cells.

Dr Sue’s study suggests testosterone may be to blame for suppressing men’s immune systems, while a female sex hormone boosts women’s. (Source Independent UK)

Ah, those testosterones, not equally present in all men. One has more than the other. That makes me think that the ones with too much testosterone, the male male, the ones who overrate their own attractiveness towards the other sexes, suffer more from the Flu than the ones who act less irresistible whilst they might still be very good looking! Or?
Here is a little home study to do for you: is your partner often a victim of the Flu? Often ill? Tell me, does he have an overdose of testosterone?
Or is he never ill due to a lack of testosterone? Is he then boring, not good looking, a low self-esteem?

When you give the research of Dr. Sue a proper thought, your relationship might become more interesting, challenging even.....
A different look on men, your own man....
Curious to your feedback.

Last but not least, today a real man convinced me he is, regarding the Male Flu, not that type of man.
Here is hope!!!
No, I am not going to reveal to you where he lives.....  I want to avoid against all costs that you ladies are blocking the streets near his apartment by queuing up at his front door.

Cheers!!

Helen

Let's talk about the power of Autumn

Last night I stood on top of the dike near the sea and watched the light house beams kissing the waves. The strong wind embraced me, I felt happy and content.

The people who know me well, know how much I love Autumn.

Ever since I was a child, Autumn has been my friend. A friend that gives me energy, that fires my heart, that feeds me with expectations.

When I was 3 years young, we lived temporarily near the sea and although memories of that time are mostly vague, I still remember the sound of the sea, the scent and the light.
I remember that very day when there was a huge storm and I all of a sudden 'disappeared'.
My parents were devastated, a 3 year old little girl, gone, traceless.

But they knew me of course so well and had a pretty accurate guess of where I could be. A thorough search led to the toddler that walked on the beach, all on her own, in wind force 9 with her hands on her back, in perfect harmony with the elements, not understanding the hassle about her solitude promenade.

And I have not changed much. I still love the elements. I need them like we all need oxygen.
I need views, endless views whether it is near the sea, a lake, the fields or the hills.
I am occasionally called a Child of the North and I have always been proud of that name. My Scandinavian, Baltic and Celtic DNA (half of all my DNA) is so obvious.

I have spent Autumns in Scandinavia where I walked for hours through the forest, along the lakes. Where I sat still to listen.

Where Summer in Scandinavia can be warm and lazy, full of heavy scents of all those flowers blooming at once to celebrate the short period of constant light, Autumn is the time of year in which nature is busy preparing itself for a long dark, magical period called Winter.

The mushrooms flourish, berries turning flaming red, black or deep blue to provide food for animals and humans. The scent of mushrooms mingles with the scent of decaying leaves.
The sound of running mice, climbing squirrels, foraging bears, foxes, lynxes, deer and elks which all know now it is time to eat or store as much as you can.

Birds leave for warmer areas, birds stay or arrive to spend the Winter.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography

The first mist spreading its voile over the lake, changing the forest into a magical place full of white and grey shadows, muffling sounds to whispers. Water drops falling from the trees, sound like little silver bells. These are all early Autumn sounds and so wonderful to listen to.

The first mist that lays its blanket over the sea, fading the transition between water and sky, adding soft pastels, soothing the water and sounds.

Then comes the first night frost which turns the small world into a fairytale with a crisp white layer where the Autumn colours glow underneath.
And nature comes to a hold. Only silence, a very deep silence that speaks more to me than any other sound. A silence I inhale, adopt, treasure.
A silence so close to true love. The love that makes you tremble with expectation, that opens up your heart, makes you mellow and soft. The love that you do not only keep in your heart but also in your hands, to offer it to whom this love is worthy, that very special person.

This special gift of Autumn lifts me up, makes me extremely happy.  I carry it with me, in my heart, my soul, my body.

Autumns other gift is its beautiful promise of Spring, a promise always kept, a promise never failing. Love that promise, hold it close to you, very close.

Love,

Helen

Johan Sebastian Bach: Concerto for 2 harpsichords, string and b.c. in
C minor BWV 1062 'Allegro assai'

James, my partner in baking and cooking

James...... we met early 2017.
Hard to believe we are together for almost 2 years now, time flies, dear readers!

James and I match so well! We love experimenting, tasting new things, looking for possibilities to make life easier with saving on money.  And we do great!
As soon as I come up with a new idea, James is ready for it and helps me where ever he can.
We never argue on forehand, afterwards we discuss the failures and how to do it better next time.
Although he is very strict in following up my cooking gestures, he also easily adapts when we have to rethink it. Yes, I love James!!!

The only thing that James does not do, is ice making. No matter how hard we think of how and when, it seems impossible. Fortunately I received a second hand ice maker, problem solved.
Right now James and I are in the phase of baking bread, low budget bread to be precise. And without an oven, that is part of the fun.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography

Unfortunately I do not have the luxury of an AGA, preferable with logs. I admit that sometimes I think I would have enjoyed living 2 centuries earlier.   A Yorkshire Range, spreading his warmth, snoring day and night during the cold winter......... a dream.....



I am not an excellent cook, somehow I miss the fantasy to create a tasty and different, delicious meal.
But I love baking! Only till recently, I baked on gas, in a so called (50 years old) 'wonder pan'. These cakes do much better than in an oven. But gas is expensive these days, electricity is much cheaper but ovens use a lot of wattage. Pinching pennies is another hobby which is giving me joy. I am so amazed in how many ways one can cut back on spendings! One of the reasons James arrived is cutting back on money. The other is that where I can not cook, James can and - last but not last - dinner is ready in time!

Back to bead making.
Last week I read a beautiful, touching and very impressive book: 'The Great Alone' by Kristin Hannah. I shed a few tears and could not stop reading.
In this book she writes about a family in Alaska, baking sour dough bread with the starter always available. I talked to James about it and we decided to give it a try. Tonight is the moment, I will tell you more about it in another blog post.
This recipe got me curious to search for yeast free bread and I ended up with the delicious Irish Soda Bread.

Photo: Helen Varras

James and I were thrilled about it, it is so easy to make! No rising and kneading, just a matter of mixing the dry and wet ingredients and baking. I did the mixing and the light kneading and James did the baking, 2,5 hours on high. From 2 hours on I frequently knocked the bread until it sounded hollow.
I am so pleased to say that James and I were very happy with the result. It is tasty, particularly still warm with butter.

You can't keep it for too long unless you allow it to cool down to store it in the freezer.

But it tastes great the next day when you toast it. Want to give it a try? Here is the recipe.
If you prefer to bake it in an oven: preheated 180 C (365F), 30-40 minutes.

Right now we are working on another try out: Kajmak, a delicious creamy cheese from the Balkan. More about this in another blog post.

Ooohhh....... I forgot to tell you that my magnificent, lovely, loyal James is my Slow Cooker......

Love,

Helen

Autumn, Winter and Music

My last post was also about music, I know.

But music is important to me; it either articulates my feelings or it opens up my heart to feelings I have hidden for what ever reason. And these reasons do not always have to be negative.
Although not born and bred British, I am familiar with the 'stiff upper lip': you don't want to show your emotions or don't want to talk about it. Nothing wrong with that.

Being busy and concentrating on daily tasks ánd a different future, deepest emotions are not always in place. I tend to push them away to a corner in which I can not always find them back again although I know they are still somewhere; they never leave me. My way to handle my life.

Fortunately I have a positive spirit and recognize new opportunities when they arise.'Varras' is not accidentally chosen; this Finish cow bar elevates my life to a new level.
Seasons also have their influences on my spirit and energy. The people who know me well, know that Summer is not my favourite season. I love sunshine for it's light ad warmth but it often drains my energy. For me a Summer Sleep is more appropriate than a Winter Sleep!

Then it is time for Autumn and I wake up, I start living again and my energy returns.
Don't ask me why, probably an amalgamation of cooler temperatures, colours, scents and skies.
The rain singing it's song, the mist fading contours and narrowing the world around me, the fiery colours of leaves and skies, energetic thunderstorms and the strong smell of wet decaying leaves and mushrooms.

The forest is a busy place for wild animals gathering nature's goodies to survive the Winter; by eating as much as possible for a deep sleep or stockpiling.
And suddenly there is silence; nature waits for the first snowflakes changing the world into a white blanket that muffles sounds; boundaries disappear.
I do not have to explain that Vivaldi's Winter and Autumn are my favourites.

It is this stillness that triggers forgotten emotions. A stillness that makes me aware of the many blessings in life. Stillness penetrates everything and adds balance.

It is not only stillness that reaches my heart. I mentioned earlier that music can do the same and without expecting it.
This happened to me this week. I came across beautiful photo's taken by Gio Boretti. Browsing the photo's I suddenly listened to beautiful guitar music that touched my heart, the compositions is called 'Love for an old wolf' , I shared it on Facebook.

But it was 'Winter Silence' that reached, without warning, the deepest corners of my heart where I, to my surprise, had hidden a few unshed tears. And I am not ashamed for these feelings, no stiff upper lip. I listened and listened.

I have never met you Gio, but thank you!!

Helen