Sylvia's Journal

This morning I am drinking some more of the coffee that was brewed from the green Ethiopian beans Axel roasted yesterday on the camping stove outside in the yard. It was a good thing he was doing it outside because roasting coffee beans is a smoky affair and the first batch got heated a bit too much. There must be a use for the blackened beans, but not for coffee. The second batch came out beautiful and there is nothing like a cup brewed from these still warm and crispy coffee beans.

Although Axel presented me a list with things to do in and around the house, I withdrew with a book and offered my help if any of these things required more than two hands. It was, after all, the last day of my vacation. I promised to do chores over the long holiday weekend.

Having a vacation at home is an art; there is much interference from work that comes in by phone and email as well as endless chores on the home front. But travelling as much as I do, home is where I want to be.

I returned the book about the fragmentation of Afghanistan to the MSH library and picked up a new one for the remainder of my vacation (Samantha Power, A Problem from Hell). The half read books languishing at home in various piles near my bed, in my office and in the living room do get a little upset when I come back with a new one that is commanding all my attention. And it is – a set of essays about the most haunting abuses of power in recent history to which Shepard Fairey’s artwork forms a perfect backdrop.

To balance the heavy reading material with something lighter I did do some more planting: the blackberry bush has found a spot in the sun and the yellow daisies, surrounded by light blue lobelias, are standing guard by the front door. The snap peas are settling in nicely at the foot of the tallest asparagus which we are not allowed to cut anymore (it’s hard to let the yummy looking spears continue to grow into inedible plants). At least they will serve as a trellis for the peas which we will be allowed to eat as they appear.

All through the day an eager Chicha would place balls or sticks close to my feet, or on them, then backing up expectantly and ready to retrieve. Occasionally she will be distracted by a chipmunk and dash after the clever little thing in mad pursuit, never catching it. The chipmunks are too fast for her or hide in places she cannot get at.