The suitcases and bags are unpacked, the washing machine is working non-stop. I look around and see dead wasps on the floors, dead flies in the window sills, dust everywhere. From my music collection I find La Nozze di Figaro and turn the volume high when I start cleaning. A good friend in Germany has given me the word homefun instead of the more dreary word house work. For homefun I need music.
We have been on the road and the house hasn't been cleaned since the grand garden party. When I walk around with my old dust rag, memories from the party play peek a boo from every corner. I count blessings and fill the prayers of thanks-basket. The afternoon feels sacred.
Outdoors Terje is mowing the grass. I give myself a break and walk out in the garden to watch him. And to pick borago flowers for tonight's salad. The boragos seed themselves, and give the herbgarden a fresh paint of summer blue. There is always blue in my palette.
Figaro and Susanna are still singing indoors, and with a bowl filled with fresh ruccola (rocket?) leaves and blue borago flowers I walk inside again. To finish cleaning. To start preparing dinner. And when everything is quiet late in the night, I play with glasses, stones and seashells gathered from my island, and a memory corner is set up.
My paradise island is here. Now.
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Listening to opera is my best way of turning housework into homefun. What is yours?
