Here is a photo of my grandparents. I particualarly like this photo of them playing croquet. I like it because it in its original quality show my granddad (in the black trousers) admiring my grandma (in the black dress) accross the field. The scene is taken from the place where my grandmother grew up; on the farm also carrying her maiden name. Judging by their youthful apperance, it is around the time of their marriage. It is also not long after the war, though this joyous photo doesn't reveal much of that particular fact.
I feel like showing you the photo above, because the four adults in it have been tremendously dear to me. The farm, I have visited countless times when I was a little girl. Especially visited was the little pond, which I loved swimming in. When I look at this photo, I see much of myself. And so, though this blog is mainly about my journey to follow my husband to the edge of the earth, I sometimes also feel the need to tell the stories that were left behind.
Today, the little pond back home is overgrown with weeds, and those who walk past it now will probably most likely disregard it as a swamp! To this blogger, however, it triggers dear childhood memories, as also the above photo trigger sweet memories of dear grandparents.
As only one's own husband can comfort!
Then one day, when I was finding it particularly hard to be so far away from where I grew up, my husband, who knows me pretty well already, took me to the a little stream, almost like a little pond, found a little heart-shaped rock, and wrote my name on it. He took the photo below, and it was not until I looked through the photos that I saw it.
