Blossoms

The first will be the last and the last the first. This Biblical wisdom also applies to the blossoms of my magnolia tree. It is an early flowering tree, and the first blossoms proudly showed themselves a month ago. Then disaster struck in the form of the Russian Bear, the extremely cold week. The pale pink blossoms, looking like fragile butterflies, shrunk overnight till they resembled crumpled balls of brown tissue paper. But fortunately there were still buds on the tree, and those buds were well protected during the winter months by what looks like a beautiful and warm velvety coat. Now that the temperature is above zero again during the day, those buds have opened. So the last magnolia blossoms of this Spring are the only ones now, and so the best – the first after the frost.

Pictures taken last year when the tree was full of blossom

A week full of variety

A varied week: meetings with the local council about our street, followed by two days of noise and a blocked street, a visit to a beautiful exhibition in an attractive city, a wintry walk on the beach, warm days and a return of the Russian bear.

 

 

For a variety of reasons trees and shrubs in our street opposite our houses had to be felled. We teamed up to fight for this narrow strip of nature, which is the home of two different species of woodpeckers, of a variety of little song birds who breed here, of bats, crows, pigeons and jackdaws, as well as jays and green parakeets, exotic species but apparently domesticated. After a meeting, the end result of several meetings, we at least achieved that we will get a varied strip of shrubs and trees back, with flowering shrubs which attract bees and butterflies. An oral promise isn’t the same as one in writing, and who knows what will happen after the elections for a new council next week? But we have it in black and white, on paper. On Tuesday morning at 7.30 am they were already at it in full force, blocking the street for two days with heavy machinery. It looks bare now, but will get worse in September when all the shrubs will be removed, to get better in November when the strip will be replanted – we were promised!

A somewhat unusual picture of St Caecilia at her portative pipe organ

 

Jesus being baptised by John the Baptist

 It was also a week to see friends. With one friend I visited an exhibition of illuminated manuscripts from the Southern Netherlands in the Catharijneconvent in Utrecht. A surprising and spectacular exhibition, of religious as well as historical and literary manuscripts, all beautifully illuminated, the bright colours as vivid as if they had been painted yesterday. There was even an encyclopedia of sorts. I couldn’t resist buying the catalogue - a heavy tome -, as the miniatures were so detailed and interesting. Now I can enjoy them at home at my leisure.

Some examples of the beautiful illustrations, thanks to the Catharijneconvent

   

 

The videos and workshops were also quite interesting. Being with a friend who enjoys retail therapy and being in a wonderful city with endless possibilities, we had some time left to go around the shops, enjoying the beauty of Utrecht on this sunny, bright and quiet day. A curry for dinner was a satisfactory end of an interesting day.

 Oude Gracht Utrecht

The day after the weather had completely changed and it was very cold and very windy. I went to the north of Holland to visit another friend and we were blown out of our skins during a long walk on the beach. The light on the water was amazing, and we also enjoyed a lovely lunch in one of the beach cafes, basking in whatever sun there was behind glass. The wind was so strong that unfortunately one of my ear studs was blown out of my ear. I will miss this bright blue and gold glass souvenir from Murano. Perhaps a pointer that it has been too long since I spent time studying in Venice? 

 Petten

After a busy day at home, the temperature dropped and it was freezing when I left choir practice last night. Today it is still freezing, a thin dust of snow covered everything this morning, and the wind from the East is very cold indeed. The Russian bear is back and we have put on our thickest and warmest winter coats again. After a few beautiful sunny days, spring now seems far away. The blossoms on my magnolia tree which looked like transparent pale pink butterflies have turned brown overnight. No ballet dancers on my tree, but tiny crumpled balls of brown tissue paper, very sad indeed. However, the days are lengthening, so there is hope that spring will come back! May it be soon!

A short holiday with the Russian Bear

The end of February, and a week which is bitterly cold. Spring had already arrived, daffodils, snowdrops and crocuses were in full bloom, as well as the hellebores. 

Even the azalea had tentatively opened a few lilac blossoms. So far the winter had been very mild indeed. But all of a sudden, the Russian Bear invaded our country with a very strong wind from the East freezing our lakes and canals and even the foam of the waves breaking on the shore of our North Sea beaches.

 

I am having a short holiday, a midweek in the province of “Zeeland”, in the uttermost south-west part of Holland. The country is flat and largely consists of farmland. It is more Flemish than Dutch, as it is very near Ghent and Bruges. In fact, it has been cut off for centuries from the rest of our country by the river Schelde, which connects Antwerp with the North Sea. There are some interesting walled, moated and gated old towns here full of history, but the land is empty except for a cancerous growth of holiday parks along the coast behind the dunes. At this time of year, the bungalow parks and holiday camps are deserted, the beaches empty. Going back a 100 years February 28th has never been as cold as today. In some places people can skate on canals and shallow lakes. But not everywhere is the ice thick enough, because of the wind which prevents the water from freezing over. 

 

 Sluis, the Belfort. The only Dutch town with a Belfort. The museum is closed but we look at the interesting bell tower from a cafe window.

We visit Sluis, an interesting walled town, but it is so cold that we quickly find a café where we can warm ourselves with a hot drinks. Like the beach cafes, the museum is closed. We decide to come back again one day during balmier weather. 

Van Dale, life long schoolmaster and historian in Sluis, to whom we own our famous dictionary, the "Dikke van Dale"

 The smallest "city" in the Netherlands,  St. Anna ter Muiden just outside Sluis, with a population of some 50 people. The former town hall is for sale.

 

We have gone out several times for walks along the beach - after all the dog needs her walk three times a day - , wrapped up very thickly in layers of woollen jumpers, vests, cardigans, with a down jacket on top. Nobody cares what he or she looks like, as long as it is warm, or at least keeps the cold at bay. Hoods over woollen hats, scarves, fur lined gloves and boots, it is all there. To walk to the beach we first have to negotiate a long dike which is completely exposed to the elements. Taking pictures needs courage and determination, as one’s hand gets painful and numb in no time at all. The beach is mostly deserted. Unfortunately, most beach cafes are closed. Officially they are not, but since there is hardly any custom, they don’t think it is worthwhile to open. And if at all, it is always in the weekends. But we are here for a midweek, so we encounter many closed doors. It is so cold that the foam of the waves at the flood line immediately changes into ice. In more sheltered spots where the wind can’t whip the water, the sea is sluggish, consisting of ice crystals. It looks like soup or porridge. 

 

 Some impressions of the beach on the cold and sunny days. 

above: The town of Flushing on he other side of the river Schelde

 

However, the clear sky is also beautiful, colours are brighter in the sun which is still very low in the sky, casting interesting patterns on the beach where rows of wooden poles reach out into the water to break the waves. 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky at night is studded with stars. But who would like to stand outside, gazing at the sky, in the dark, in a marrow chilling, icy wind? Perhaps our winter of 2017-2018 will only last one full week, but it is a real winter if ever there was one. A week of feverish dreams, of fantasies about skating long tours on natural ice, across lakes and canals, drinking hot chocolate on makeshift benches in makeshift tents on the ice or eating hot pea soup. And making friends with fellow skaters, whatever their background or age, all united by this Dutch skating virus.

 Wide skies and empty lands

 

 

 Sunsets and evening skies

 

 And very stormy a day later