Colour

In the midst of boxes and farewells and cleaning and storage (in other words, anything that has the steely shine of "MOVING" glinting off of it!) it is nice to take the time to catch up on some cosy, family news. Caught in a twisted warp of a flu bug that incapacitated me for quite a bit, I am now back in full swing with more appreciation for life after my absence from it. My Dutchman is quite the nurse and the fact that he is so handsome makes being sick that much better.

We had a new arrival in the family a couple of weeks ago. Peter and I are button-popping proud. Meet "Eva" :

We thought "Eva" (or Dutch for "Eve") suited the first car for either of us. She is a '98 Ford Fiesta, with 81,000 km on her and runs beautifully.  She really is a gift from the Giver of gifts.

So, we note the passing of the era of bikes and horses in the Frinsel history. (although those two forms of transportation will still retain their popularity due to outstanding gas prices...)

Everything is wrapping up for us here in Holland and my List of Lasts (my family is quite conscious of and intimate with this certain List) has begun. I have found however a special something that takes the sting out of this sad inventory: enjoyment. It is much easier to let go of something when it has been truly appreciated and enjoyed, than knowing that there was more and that more will never be again. The ache of regret is the worst ache of all. 

As we entered our final week here, the wheels of "Eva" took us to a famous national sight that gave us refreshment and energy for the times ahead. The Keukenhof is home to an overwhelming 7 million flower bulbs that are in their glorious peak during the month of April. If you have ever visited the Louvre of Paris or any another museum that is so luxurious in its vast collection of art, you will know the feeling that the Keukenhof's natural collection bestows. There is so much beauty around you that you can't take it in, you know you can't, and your brain feels guilty of the charge. You just have to soak it up and curl your toes in it.
I was so surrounded by colour (which is a boring word for such a brilliant thing!) that it quite overwhelmed me. I raptly asked Peter what it would be like to actually drink colour. He vaguely replied that he had heard some where that it wasn't good for you. Yes, my artistic soul is joined to a beautifully practical one. (He later admitted that it might taste nice...)

After our dip into the world of colour, "Eva" took us to the coast, where we had a bracing walk along the Dutch shore in the blast of a north wind. That same wind blew out some of the staleness that life and practicality has crusted in our minds and went on to fluff up the edges of our souls. And now... we are ready for the Move. We head out this Saturday to Germany. We do not as yet have an apartment or a job, but we are living and moving by God's grace always. Added to that, (as someone recently told us) our story, "will make a very romantic tale one day of how two people in love didn't let distance or social barriers hinder their bid for a wonderful life together." How is that for adding glamour to the seemingly mundane? 

Now, here is some colour for you to take a dive in! 

                                            

To come... An Ode to the Lowlands...

Savouring

The sun has disappeared again for a time and I knew we should never have washed our winter apparel for storage in March. It happens every year and yet, every year I clean and put away with the same early, foolish hopes. However, in the end, I think that is what makes life what it really is. Does anyone else get a rush by putting away the old to welcome in the new? I often find myself caught between holding tightly on to things past (memories, places, people and such) and running head-long into the future with all the impatience of a toddler. It is then that I discover myself forgetting to savour the present. How often it is disregarded, our current existence in the moment! The very thing that creates the memories of the past and gives us a foretaste of the future: it's such a beautiful thing. It's like a cat napping on the couch with sleepy head bobbles and soft piano music playing through a little house in the Netherlands on a chilly Monday morning.

Peter and I have been endeavouring to appreciate and live in the moment of late. We have to move on, and because of that, we see everything that we have built up and familiarized ourselves to, these past six months, in a new light. Our next destination as a couple will be an entirely different culture, language and life.

                                                                         
                                                                                Germany.

We plan to live there for at least the next four to six months to work and live. It isn't the easiest thing to give up everything here in the lowlands to move to a place that, even though is only six hours away, is so different. It is our greatest hope that our little friend, Pippin-cat, will be able to make the journey with us but that hangs in the balance with future apartment rules. We will have to give up our first little house here and no longer will Peter be the able cultural translator and language genius. However, at the same time, we look forward to it! It is an exciting time and we are entering this challenge and adventure together. We are also terribly pleased to have our friends, Mogi and Kristyn, as our new neighbors.

Packing will begin soon. It is almost second nature and the only thing to be dreaded is the hollow sound of an empty house. Goodbyes will be said, with the hope that "hello" will be said again in six months time when we plan to return to Holland. (Or "There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins" as Peter likes to say...)

So, with the music still playing, and the kitty still peacefully sleeping, (now with clean paws and belly) and the chilliness of this Monday morning still seeping through the doors and windows of our wee home, the present continues. The future comes, but this moment was enjoyed.

The Frinsels in Germany