Tag Archives: time

One of those good and tasty autumn days in Istria

12 Oct

Good people have time.
– Duško Radović

On a day like this, the above quote pops up in my mind a lot. If I try to persist being in a hurry, everything starts to work against me. What I learned to do is to hear the very first signal and stop pushing myself. Pushing would only make me nervous, I wouldn’t get anything done, anyway, my day would be ruined.

So I said to myself: “Relax and allow the beauty of life to touch you. Let go off all the worries. That’s what life is all about on a day like this.”

Days like this are worth living for. That’s when I am able to really look around and let immense gratitude flood me. I am alive! Life is amazing! Not because something changed on the outside, but because my eyes suddenly changed and became capable of seeing this.

Thank you David for the watermelon, wild leek and quinces, thank you Jure for the pumpkin, thank you mom for carrots, mangold and parsley, thank you Lovro for mint and lemon balm, thank you nature for everything!

Thank you David for the watermelon, wild leek and quinces, thank you Jure for the pumpkin, thank you mom for carrots, mangold and parsley, thank you Lovro for mint and lemon balm, thank you nature for everything!

In the morning I went for a meeting to discuss future plans for Network for Revival of Istria. For more than half an hour we weren’t productive. We talked and talked … mostly about various methods how to preserve olives. Ah … At first I was a bit nervous, but then I relaxed and reminded myself: “Hey, it is one of those days, remember?”

Take it   e a s y

On the way home I stopped at a Smoke bush, which was, mysteriously enough, still covered with fluffy growth — from which it derives the name. This fluffy stuff is my favourite natural bathroom tissue. I picked quite a lot – I’ll have exquisitely enjoyable ass-wiping for at least a week or two!

When I came back to Pomjan I went to collect old bricks for the stove that we’re building at Hrvoji. David wasn’t home. But his mother walked out from the house to greet me and we talked for half an hour or more. She explained where she was born, how she grew up, how their farm had many cows and pigs, how her father got his first job, how he hunted partridges and pheasants so they always ate well. Simple but well. The best was hard bread with freshly skimmed cream and a little sugar on top, she said. For a long time she spoke how grateful she is to my mother for helping her recover after pelvic fracture, encouraging her, giving her strength. Our conversation went on and on …
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