Thursday, July 27, 2006

The train past goodbye

I see a beautiful landscape, great stretches of things that bring joy to my eye, and I think to myself that perhaps I should try again to capture this using photography. But I quickly remember how much time it takes to turn any part of what my eye perceives as beautiful into an image that others can perceive as well as I. I think that it is actually faster to write about it than it would be to try and photograph it. And, I seem to achieve more success with writing it.

Right now, my eye was caught by the clouds and the play of the mid-morning light amongst them. Patches of bright light and color amongst the thick woolly clouds, the shadings are striking. We pass a station where people are standing and waiting. One girl is walking rapidly along the platform, looking like she has somewhere to be. A couple is hugging, a young man and woman, not youths, but somewhere in the prime of young adulthood. She leans into the man and raises a foot behind her, standing on one leg now, as they embrace.

Another time, we are passing a small town, and the portion by the tracks has been an apple orchard, now looking unkept, and somewhat unruly. But my mouth literally waters at the sight of all the apples. The trees are full of them, green apples or red apples still partly greenish. It is a beautiful vision, and my hunger arises as I see it, my mouth anticipating the taste.

Contract up, goodbye, end of Journal?

Thursday, July 27, 2006
And, now, I must say goodbye. It is sad for me. My contract has not been renewed, and I am leaving. As I leave, da spadanya rises to my throat, wanting to be spoken. Da spadanya, Chumlyak, da spadanya Shumika that I just met and wanted to know better, da spadanya Shchuch'ye, da spadanya fields and forests of the Siberian side of the Urals. I do get to say da spadanya to the driver, and I ask him to pass this to the other drivers, as well. I don't think I said da spadanya to Chelyabinsk. I have no love for that place. This is not a happy time, but leaving the camp is a bit like a release. We often say that things will always eventually turn out for the better. I hope that this is so. When I post this to the blog, I think this will be an end to the Russian Journal, because it is certainly an end. I'm not sure of what, but I know that it is. I may start a new blog, and post more Russian experiences there, or I may not. I may not stay in Russia at all. At this time, we just don't know.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006


Wildflowers, version 2.

July 5
Wildflowers, there are clouds of them in yellow, purple, and white. Two weeks ago, even last week, I was wondering why there were so few of them out here. There are huge stretches of fields and woods, it would seem that there should be wildflowers aplenty. And there were very few. But now, oh now, we have hazy clouds of color floating over the green fields.
There is a sweet light lavender~pink, in spires, with long green leaves, looking every bit lilke western fireweed. Another set of spired blooms, this time a proper purple. The yellow clouds, perhaps a legume, give me a light and sweet fragrance. I see some purple clover, some white, and a few daisies as well.

July 25
The wildflowers have even grown more numerous. Now the daisies form big swatches to paint more white on the landscapes. The purples have changed, some have faded away a little, replaced by others. There is a blue flower, too, that I think may be chicory. It certainly looks to me like chicory, but unfortunately, this is not a plant I know very well. Now the thistles add intense droplets in deep crimson and purple shades. The grasses are maturing, and they bring silver highlights to the palette of color. The fields of grain are also coming into fruition. The visual texture is rich, and beautiful.