Photo diary: Project 365, week 19

Another warm, very summery week.

The first white rose has bloomed, the scent is beautiful.  

Most of the photos this week are garden and nature-related. I feel rather downcast, and looking at the flowers helps me stay calmer. There is no specific reason, but depression comes and goes in waves, and some days I can barely function.

Tried to take several photos of the dandelion clock, against the green background...

...and against the clear sky. It's like a whole cosmos in one plant.

Walking through the town.

All week I was watching videos and reels related to the VE Day, and the 80th anniversary of the defeat of the Nazi Germany.

I salute all those who fought in Europe against Nazism. I salute their courage, and their sacrifice.

My father's father, Stepan Kravchenko, died in battle in 1943, leaving a widow and two young children. 

My Mum's stepfather, Dmitri Turilin, served in the Navy during the war. He was one of the defenders of Sebastopol. His ship was destroyed and sank. Most of the crew perished. My grandfather and his comrade survived eight harrowing hours in the sea before they were rescued by a small boat.

Dmitri was badly wounded and lived only because he clung to a floating mine, an instrument of death that could have exploded at any moment. Imagine holding onto something so dangerous, hoping against all hope. What an amazing will to live.

Dmitri was the only grandfather that I ever knew. I often think that blood and genes mean little compared to love and kindness. Strangely, people in the village would often remark how much my little brother looked like him when they rode together on horseback. And it was true, they did look alike.

A longer post about my grandfather can be found on Instagram if anyone fancies to read. I did this ink sketch, using an old photo. Sadly I don't have any photos of my Grandfather Stepan.

You can smell this bush from a distance, it has such a strong distinct scent.

I stopped for a second to take a snap of this blue blossom, only to be ambushed by a passing old dear, who started to tell me a long story how she had the same plant in the garden, but it died. I nodded politely and commiserated, all the time thinking, Please let me go.

I've been reading two books in the last week.

 Poe/ A Life Cut Short by Peter Ackroyd is a biography of Edgar Allan Poe, who was "heralded as the forerunner of modern fantasy and credited with the invention of the psychological drama, science fiction and the detective story". His own life was mightily dramatic. Not the easiest person to live with, Poe was a tormented genius and a miserable person. This book makes me want re-read some of his poetry and stories.

The Ghost and Mrs Jeffries by Emily Brightwell is a Victorian murder mystery, written in the style of the cosy crime/mystery. Apparently there are about thirty books in the series. I bought a couple of Mrs Jeffries' mysteries a few years ago in the charity shop. Not even sure what number in the series this book is supposed to be, but it doesn't matter. It's quite entertaining. High literature it is not. 

The premises of the series: there is an Inspector of Scotland Yard, a kindly but not very smart man. His housekeeper Mrs Jeffries and the household servants keep helping him solve the crimes without the Inspector knowing that he's being assisted. 

And how did your week go?

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