NORTHERN DAYS
The way there and back
Desať dní na severe, slnečné len dva - prvý a posledný. Aj tak mali sladkú príchuť.
Všetko začalo dlhou cestou s krátkou zastávkou v malej dedine s pomaľovanými domčekmi, týždňové jahňa pod jabloňami vystrašene utekajúce za matkou, ktoré vyvolalo nehu v mojom vlastnom dieťati. Potom cesta medzi horami, popod Kľak, cez Kláštor pod Znievom, dieťa zaspalo v aute s knihou v rukách a ja som si krátila čas nazeraním do dvorov a záhrad domov, ktoré sme míňali. V rádiu rozhovor s Veronikou Šikulovou o knihe Diera do svetra, počúvala som o Modre, majolike, americkom spolku na ochranu vtákov, o behaní a detskej knihe Sylvie Plath. Bolo slnečno a príjemne teplo. Popoludní sme stihli prechádzku v doline za mestom. Dieťa kŕmilo pstuhy v potoku, rátalo psov a deti v kočíkoch, cez ohradu sledovalo čierne prasiatka a malé diviaky. Vyšli sme na kopec, kde sa pásli drobné kozy, jedna odzadu trochu štuchla do dieťaťa, ono sa na chvíľu zľaklo a potom sa začalo smiať. Vo vzduchu sa vznášali chumáče z topoľov, slnko už bolo nízko a nad hladinou priehrady lietalo veľa hmyzu. Na druhý deň sa zdvihol prudký vietor a začalo pršať. Veľa sme čítali, káždá to svoje, sledovali sme z okna straky, drozdy a čajky, kvapky dažďa na skle, jedli sme jahody a jablkový koláč a čas napriek zdanlivej monotónnosti bežal rýchlo. A nakoniec to slnko predsa len vyšlo. Z upršaného večera bolo odrazu svieže, striebristé ráno. Ráno a deň, kedy je dobré vyjsť si von, nechať deti pobehovať na lúke vo vysokej tráve, hádzať s nimi do vody kamienky, trhať kvety, stretnúť sa s inšpiratívnymi ľuďmi a robiť si pekné plány. Dobre bolo na severe..
Ten days in the north, only two of them were sunny - the first and the last one. But still they had a sweet taste.
It all started with a long journey with a short break in a small village with white painted houses. There was an one-week old little lamb under the apple trees following its mother and my own baby was suddenly flooded with tenderness. Then there was a journey among the mountains, under a mount called Klak, through the village Klastor pod Znievom. Baby fell asleep in our car with a book in her hands and I was wasting my time spying the front yards and the gardens of the houses we had passed. There was an interview with the slovak writer Veronika Sikulova on the radio, I was listening to her and her stories about town Modra where she lives, about the local ceramics, about some american society for the bird protection, about running and about the child book of Sylvia Plath. The weather was sunny and pleasant. In the afternoon we took a walk to the valley behind the town. Baby was feeding the trouts in the brook, counting all the dogs and babies in their strollers and watching the black piggies and little wild boars over the fence. We climbed a little hill where the small goats were feeding on grass, one of them poked my baby suddenly, she got alarmed for a second and then started to laugh. There were bunches from the abele trees drifting in the air, sun was coming down and lots of insect was flying over the reservoir's level. It started raining the next day and the strong wind raised up. We were reading a lot those days, watching the lark-spurs, blackbirds and gulls from the window, following up the raindrops on the glass, we ate strawberries and apple cake and time ran pretty quickly even it looked monotonously. Finally the sun was back again. Fresh and silver morning raised up from a rainy evening. A morning and a day when it's good to go out, when it's good lo leave your kids just to run around in the meadow, fling the pebbles into the water, pick the flowers, meet some inspiring people and make some motivational plans. Was a pleasure to be there in the north again..
