A little serendipity

When I was in Germany by myself at Christmas I found a cosy local cafe with good food and made a habit of eating there most evenings. Each night I walked past an architect’s office that had no blinds or curtains and there was a handsome young man working at his desk under a beautiful light that cast dandelion shadows on the ceiling. We would catch each other’s eyes and smile slightly. I loved that light.


Because it was winter and Christmas, there were lovely lights everywhere.

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But the architect’s light was my favourite and I coveted it. As it was Germany and they are renowned for great design I imagined it to be a high end, very expensive thing but as I was looking at Trademe recently I found it, the exact same one. It is an IKEA design and someone was selling it. I stayed up until midnight when the auction closed and managed to buy it and now I have my own light, smaller version  admittedly, that casts dandelions on the ceiling. I like the way it does that but I also like it as a memory of that Christmas in Munich.

Here’s mine, I’m too impatient to wait until it is dark.



The reason I was in Munich was because my friend Sabina was visiting her mother there and as I was in Europe at the same time we met up. It is her mother’s birthday soon and she asked me to write a poem for her. I am still working on it so it is unpolished but this is it in essence.

Birthday Poem for Sabina and her Mother

A mother over there, a daughter here
Or a mother over here and a daughter there.
No matter, the sun shines its face eventually on one or the other.
And the comfort of nightfall too.
Birthday morning here is evening there,
either already over here or about to begin there,

No matter the sun shines its face eventually on one or the other.
And the comfort of nightfall too.
Facing each other from each end of the earth
the daughter leans forward to send out birthday wishes.

The mother too, leans forward to catch them, softly, easily.

One sending in the light of early morning here,
the other feeling the dusk close gently in there
as she receives them.

No matter the sun shines its face eventually on one and the other.
And the comfort of nightfall too.


It is such bliss to be home and cosy in the pouring rain, prawns at the ready for dinner, spoilt for choice-knitting, reading, tile making. Wonderful. FG

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