Wednesday, October 5

Dearest Sophie,

You have been gone for over two years and I have felt lost ever since. it has been longer still since I wrote anything on this page. I miss you terribly. Poet often when she is sad or does not get her way she brakes in to tears and starts crying about longing for home " our old hill mama, with Sophie and grace, Tolstoy and the garden were you cooked and we picked wild flowers.." she would sob and my throat would immediately feel like I swallowed a crater, I would do anything to hold back tears but eventually I would cry along side of her holding her and somehow my tears would quiet her tears, we would wipe them and promise to find our forever house soon. Our second hill was the forever house she wanted, wanted even after finding out about mold and agreeing with the  Trust that it would be fixed, we went ahead and made an offer that was accepted. Oh Sophie I thought about you, grace and Tolstoy there ont the hill Just waiting or us to return, 'to make it safe for Poet to return" but that agreement was filled with Tolmach Trust toxic mold lies, betrayal and greed the kind that can not be fixed.

Sophie, the very moment you died, the phone rang that phone call led to a new life, but a life I wanted before and somehow confused as I purchased if I wanted it still. It turned our lives upside down, aging me a decade, questions every morsel of who I am something I never once questioned- I knew who I was from the age of five after my small body and my small spirit was ripped from me like so many little girls, I had resolved there and then siting in the apple tree who I would never be somehow I knew and kept hold it till two years ago when while burning croissants, canelles and bouchons and watching my body brake down from exhaustion I realized I no longer had a clue on who I was. Oh Sophie sometimes I think you would hate me know, this person, I have become.

Yet, here I am trying hard to get back to her, to find her or trace the steps back to when I last saw her, when I last felt in my own shoes. 

My dearest Sophie I have promised others to write here and although this letter is filled with melancholy, I can see the lights come through the cracks....a self made promise to find her again.

**** Dear Readers and Bloggers please leave a comment below if you would like to join our blog circle that way we can begin to follow you and when you post we will be able to see!

thank you for being here, I am a work in progress.

Wednesday, January 9

The Fox

Dear Poet,

Today, you woke with plan you were going to befriend a fox. I listened as you spoke about how you would follow it's track trough the forest and wait for it. As I listened to you speak about your plan i could feel my heart ache a bit and as you finished i began to speak about how i understood how tempting that may be and how we had a responsibilty to the chickens and ducks in our care to keep the fox at bay and becoming it's friend, allowing it to trust us would then make shooing him away from our feathery friends impossible. You for the briefest of seconds protested and then just liked that let the idea go. I lingered there as you ran up the stairs to find your kittens, i lingered gazing through the window because while i was convincing you that befriending a fox was not good idea, i was wanting to do the same. you see when i was a child your age i talked to animals, real ones and the ones that i saw on the walls of  my mind, i believed then that they understood me more than any human could, as  i grew i talked to them less and for a decade or so i went silent but then heartache came and    build this wall and i started to fill those walls with real animals, dogs, horses, chickens, ducks cats and i dedicated myself to them the best i could, i would run to my horses when my heart hurt and spill all my brokenness to them, the dogs would lay on my legs when they ached as i bled, i would watch the chickens and ducks interact and swear that if other humans could see how they lived and cared for each other, the world with heal. You see my dear Poet, somehow i be friended all of them, the crow that greeted me on the hammock, the woodpeckers that played among the sunflowers as i picked vegetables, the chipmunks that no longer ran as i filled water buckets, the two coyotes that i felt sorry for.... i can whisper, speak openly to them and although i don't know how all the animals i have cared for and seen  feel about me what i do know is somehow, i am me among them and if that is what you are feeling my darling than i say you must befriend the fox....

( listening to this as i write)

Tuesday, October 2

The Autumn road to change

I sit here in a dark corner of the second floor bedroom, the rain falls on the tin roof and a kind light makes it's way through two windows. I could apologize for being gone from this place for so long but in truth I have failed myself for the life lived between the last time I posted and now has been beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. My daughter my life has been growing and each day has been a chapter that should have been documented here. All i can do is start today and see how i do.

Yesterday after homeschool group and the chaos of it, something Poet and I will  have to get used to we came home to gather a few things and even though raining i equipped each of us with phones and headed to take photographs. Poet is incredible at noticing things and this new type of adventure that included her having a device to document was not wasted on her. It was so lovely to watch her find what she was attracted to. I felt a peace, something that has eluded me for to long for it to be healthy. Perhaps because nature is changing, the craving for a personal change has quieted in down, only time will tell. The one thing you should know is the love i have for Poet my daughter, is by far the most incredible i have ever felt.

so here i am again.....

Saturday, February 18

saturday road.

I am going on an adventure, the open road. A small one, just a day really but life can change in a minute so image a whole day full of  minutes…..

Sunday, February 12

winter thoughts

The snow falls, days now and with every inch i seem to fall more deeply in love with winter. it's beauty and the calm it brings have always been like a kind companion to my thoughts, it quietness a soundtrack to the scenes before me.

I am sitting by the window and the soft dusk light floats in and this  plays.  Soon i will leave getting up from this old grey chair and put my winter layers to head out doors and become part of the scenery i have been staring at for hours now.

How are you? There is a beautiful   melancholy that has been brewing inside of me a mix  of the relief  of making it to the other side, finalement….and the newness that comes with the reaching of a new hand.  I can think twenty thoughts at once as of late sometimes uncomfortable but the other day a quiet whisper allowed me the time and space to let those thoughts fall where they may and wait for one to perhaps grow into something more.

Last night we went to his house and listened  to him sing a song he wrote about the love of his life, 59 years worth of love and memories. I was glad you came with me and listened to, not what we are used  eh, togetherness minutes before you told me you where giving up on us. a second later i got a glimpse of my physical and i felt a relief, there was nothing there to want.

Oh that light, five the winter hour I love the most- the light compels me more than writing down more words, thoughts. I shall think of you as i try to catch snowflakes  and perhaps i will create a being made of snow and be with him till he goes…..

Wednesday, January 18

the light of my being

A mix of soft snow and fog is creating such an ethereal afternoon here on the hill. Music is playing and a little girl is getting ready for her french class.  I like the drive that brings me to madame Sabine's house, where i drop of my little Poet but for a moment afterwards I am lost, who am I when I am not mothering, who am i when i am not running or creating something.  Those questions are slowly being answered as i try to navigate this new path.  

It is wrong to wish to go back to certain times of certainty and confidence a time where maybe i took happiness and in the moment for granted. Forward, will bring me to a  place similar in feeling but how much does the heart crave peace and solid beats.   This year, will be one of travel as that side of me stayed dormant last year due to being spread to thin. right now I feel as if there is so much of me to give,  but no clear recipient or vessel other than my darling to catch it all.  

Again i find myself wanting to do something beyond what benefits me. The hill needs so much of  my attention and i can not wait to make it all shiny and new again.  I have been working on a project that if successful will teach me so much about the merge of past and future- helping to create a balance i often seem to lack in my personal path.

Today it is the keys of the piano  that has me feeling all sorts of things and this image i took of Poet the other day as we traveled across the mountain with our recovering bodies and sat at a cafe. I spotted the light and before i could say anything this little being ran to it and then i suddenly forgot where the light source was coming from,  i remembered it was all her…..

Thursday, January 12

the soft rain and warm air

Dear friends, thank you so much for the comments and emails, made me smile but moreso gave me this sense of familiarity that I have been craving.

Poet and I have been home with head colds and except for the chores we have not ventured outside in days, Today I just needed a walk and although it was raining the air was warm and the drops soft. The landscape always changing, today my favorite winter colors emerged the ones that feel as if you are walking in painting, Andrew Wyeth if i was to be specific.

I have decided to devote a half hour of my day to write here in these pages, a half hour of listening to music and writing. I sat down with Poet and  told her my plan and that she could read or draw during that time, she looked at and said " I will make dinner" I write this as she is handing me slices of oranges between her preparing dinner. She cooks so beautifully and passionately at her age, I taught her knife skills very early on, when i realized she would always go for the knife and it was best to teach her the proper methods. She knows how much olive oil to put in the pan, how to snap asparagus and peel garlic. She can combine food  so beautifully matched like chickpea, lemon, garlic and fresh herbs. I should take photographs for you. I am sipping some sparkling water as I type the only way I can drink water these days and I make it myself, I know it seems silly to speak about it but this simple machine that requires no electricity and can instantly turn my well water to this bubbly water makes me kid like happy.

It is amazing how we could run from a certain kind of rain and in another walk gently not caring how wet we get.  I have not done so many of the things that used to come easy, like daily walks no matter the weather. Today we started again.  The weather has gone from mild to extreme cold and mild again. I like my winters with a good two feet of snow and in the thirties,  it healthy that way- the things that need to be dormant are allowed to do so, the animals body temperature is steady, food intake predictable and healthy and the quiet that snow brings helps one quiet the urge to do more than one can. 

I must go now, Poet has nappa cabbage, pineapple, garlic on the counter, i am wondering what we are making:)

Tuesday, January 10

finding my way back here, this abandoned place

Dear Friends,

I will never be able to fill in the pages with the moments and stories that have taken place in the years I have been away. Yet i  might on occasion travel back to memories that helped thread together parts of myself that has brought me back here.

I am  not sure, if anyone I once knew and think of often will find themselves back here to this abandoned place. Either way, I will paint you picture with little vignettes of words and images and let you piece things together, take what you need and for those who felt abandoned by me, i am truly sorry- i paid the price for doing so.

I am sitting at my kitchen table, it is winter , dark and windy the kind that makes the windows rattle and has the fires warmths disappearing before it reaches my skin.    I am listening to Keaton Henson, my beautiful four year old daughter Poet is on the couch "reading" and i am pleased that i am typing away, finally.

There is reluncholus flowers on the table in a white pitcher that i bought her on my way back from Montreal because I was told when I left she thought " mommy is gone to get dinner and buy me flowers" it was bittersweet to get that call, that i could not turn around right then and make my way back to her hurt, All is well now, we have spent the last three days in pajamas with head colds, roaring fires, tea and to many documentaries, her latest infatuation Volcanos.

Keaton just sang this phrase" do you know who you are……are you tired" gosh,  i am and this very moment i do not know exactly who I am. You see the last few years I threw myself in project that took every ounce of me and although it gave back, with people and kindness those things quickly got devoured by a horrible man who desguised himself as a caring loving human and even though all the signs where there that he was the opposite of who he portraying, i thought that no one could see his kindness but me only to realize I was the only one that needed him to be kind therefore i willed it but it never came and it broke me.

You see it was not that i thought i was different from all the men and women he has done this to before but it was simply because i thought, surely he had evolved as a human, recognizing that the power and happiness he must get by  being an instinguisher of light, destroyer of dreams could not be sustainable, could not keep him happy for long- I was wrong, he needs to see you  build partially so that he could hear the recking ball of his being destroying another. Always saying how he needs biggest and the best and yet not being able to come even near to being decent or good enough, kind enough, helpful enough- he hears it to or perhaps sees it in you when you realize that he is a fictional character and yet you have the grace and kindness in you to not point out but the reflection he catches is enough to bring his fury, call in his ego and as lightning hits a tree he burns you. I once said to him I forgive you, it took all i can to say it,  such a long journey to get to that place where i could genuinely mean it, his reply " your not god" the man with no empathy i realized then, the reason he was always working on his spirituality was because  where once laid a heart now was colder then the river he swam in. Yes dear man, I am not God how could i be, when you believe yourself to be.   I will be well, I have a lifetime to get there,

I love the violin, even now the music playing is heavy with it, it has been an influence in my life and now more than ever it has become a sanctuary and at times even a daily live performance.

I must go now,  put on my wool hat and socks and walk against the wind with feed buckets filed with sheep and horse grain- how lucky is the life i lead, where every night I am summoned outside under the stars to be doing one of the most primitive things to man.

I am going to give you what i can, dear readers while depositing memories here.

With Kindness,'nadia

Wednesday, July 29

dissapearing kindness

It has been a long while, i never meant it to be. I had hoped to fill these pages with Poet and her wonderfullness, because there is so much of it. I hope to do so shortly but i must just write what my heart is asking me to write but know dear friends if you are still there, i have an incredible life and all these months that have passed have been filled with happiness more than anything else.

I am sitting upstairs above my cafe, shop and market, life has changed i have added these things to my days, it has cost me a lot, not reffering to money but it has given me alot once again i am not reffering to money. It has until very recently been were all my energy and drive has gone. Oh gosh even as i type this i feel this malencholy ache for where i left off the simple life that was Poet and i on the hill. It is fragmented now and we are everywhere and being pulled in so many directions. temporary i say,  balance will come yet there is no complaint here all is as it must be for the future of what i hope it to  be.

I have had some of the kindest moments and experiences this past winter and spring and they helped me move forward and keep focus. I have also heard kind words and the worst all in one opening of mouth. My heart has soared and felt a tare on the same day. I have lost my balance, fallen, picked myself up all within minutes. It easy to blame others, well maybe not so easy- i am good at taking blame, it is safer, more bareable. My shoulders ache,  my neck aches i blamed it on all the false shade ( airconditioning) maybe it is something else, maybe it is the dissapearing kindness from those i love but maybe it is dissapearing because i have emptied....

photograph of  a place i stayed early summer in the south of france (hosting a workshop)

Tuesday, September 2

when words become a song

Hello, I  hope you are well and that you are enjoying these last days of summer.  I am upstairs, the windows let in a soft breeze, crickets, tree frogs and this  are the only sounds i hear. The sky is turning from dusk to dark and i can see a beautiful silhouette of the birch tree. I am profoundly happy.
Just the other day i told a friend that i felt like a balloon being held by a child seconds before  being let go. I am excited about so much but grounded and filled with what i have.

I am preparing for many things at once, yet i do not feel rushed and maybe that part is on it's way but for now- i am good at being here in the moment.  Last week i needed a quietness, a stirring so I took Poet and we drove down a dirt road, i needed to see these beautiful creatures. I was surprised at how much they spoke to my spirit, how much they listened to my inner rants. I stayed for a while and then came back again a few days later. Sometimes, you need to be heard or to hear with your eyes until your soul has received the message and your body becomes fully awake.

I am awake and a continuous flow of words can be heard inside me almost a song….

Wednesday, August 13

home, again slowly...

Dearest friends,  i am sitting by the light of the computer screen. the room dark, the sky dark but my heart so full of light and i inhale and exhale in one single breath.

I have been away, family trials, fears and helplessness now those things are passing and i start to point my toes, open my hands and slowly stretch my limbs again. Tonight was magical, the hill slowed me down just enough, taking me on a waltz through beautiful fog and rain as horses galloped through the fields and deer grazed. I walked to the horses and stayed for a long while even rested my face on splash and asked " do you remember me old pal" through this thicker skin, wrinkled face and grey hair but somehow he showed me who i used to be so i lingered there….

I have always known a baby, child would bring me so much joy and all the love i had that was often misplaced would find a home in this small being what i did not realized how much my love grows for her each day even when i think it would be impossible to love more than this , she is my everything and  there is something so amazing about her beyond just what a mother feels- she is the sun, the sea and the air.

I am preparing to travel again foreign lands like Istanbul and home away from home France and working on filming workshops and lands beyond my imagination. It goes to fast, torn between want to be still on the Hill with my little girl and wanting to create- i believe one day soon both these  things will collide and it too will be magical.

i took this photograph long time ago when i lived in Providence, my bedroom in the city, morning light filtered through ferns, oxalis and a window shade…… the tittle "my heart wanders"

oh and this song took me places….

Wednesday, July 9

Poet, a film.

Nadia&Poet from Ryan Ulysses Marshall on Vimeo.

Dearest friends,

I have wanted to share this with you from the very first moment i received it. I wanted to show it to the world and say " see here this is proof, i am her mum and she is my daughter" but i couldn't,  it became my most prized possession. At a time of uncertainty, in this beautiful film created by Ryan i saw what my heart knew, Poet was my daughter, my future, my purpose. Ryan caught Poet  brilliantly as she was.  I watched this many times throughout this last nine months and other times when i became to scared of loosing her i kept it hidden even from myself fearing i would brake to watch what t i knew without a doubt the unshakable bond between Poet and I- but now i get to share it with you a moment in time that meant/means everything to me.  Although i continue to feel a lump in my throat and tears down my cheeks while watching it, it is no longer intertwined with fear but solely on how fast she is growing and how lucky i am to have this moment on film.

Ryan is one of the most talented people i know, this passed year his kindness, strength, and support became rays of light when i needed them. I met Ryan a few years back when he came to film a book trailer on the hill and stayed for a few days but i read his works, beautiful written pieces on family way before on his coveted blog Pacing the Panic room.  I formed an opinion about him then that he was a father and husband and a pretty darn good one.   In person what i witnessed is a human who when speaking about or to his children his excitement is, as if they were just coming out of the womb and when he speaks about his wife, it is as if he had just yesterday met the love of his life.   He is like that with his work too, a child like excitement, a healthy dose of nervousness and a very strong vision. His films are beams of light -BEAMS OF LIGHT. I am lucky to work with him and even luckier still to call him a friend.

Ryan, even though i try, i know i will fail to express how treasured not only the finished piece is on Poet and i  but that you took the time to do it.   My only hope is that one day Poet herself will express her gratitude for it much better than her mama could.

The Beautiful song in the film is a Finnish Lullaby, i first heard it sitting by an open camp fire on a misty evening on the hill, and i fell in love with it.  sang by filming workshop attendee turned houseguest then friend  Maaike Korman the next day it was recorded upstairs of our house and used in the film. 

Saturday, June 7

the fog returned and i exhaled.

The fog returned to the hill, i had been whispering for it. I am breathing now, no longer holding my breath. She is safe, my heart. I have again been captivated by the hill, as i watch tiny feet and hands walk and feel this beautiful landscape, leaning in she to takes in the smell of the lilacs- later that evening the wind plays with the branches of the lilac tree and i could swear my heart has tasted it's sweet scent.

My hands have been in the garden, hers too. goodness how magical this evening was,  the fog and sunset competing, no wait dancing, they were both quietly moving together. i did not leave the scene but stared at it, walked through it, dreamt in it,  and then finally fifteen months of holding it in, i exhaled…….there i am, still here, still but stirring.

Thursday, May 29

..and it was to be

Tuesday with certainty was the best day of my whole life, everyday of happiness after will be rooted in that very day.  We adopted our baby girl and made her name official surrounded by my parents and a few friends. Please meet the love of my life, Poet Ines Dole. I want to thank you all for you encouragement and believing that this day was possible, i will never forget it.

Here, although blurry is a captured moment after it was official between Poet and the kind Judge. I am so in love with this little being and one day soon i will share more about Adoption day.

with kindness,

Wednesday, April 30

no walls, fully believing.

i was going to write you today about the lines on my face and the weight on my hips, no courage to do so at this time, bleak.

Instead can i write you about how my heart keeps expanding so much so at times i am overtaken by tears, happy ones with grains of fear. Fear that i not only see the finish line but i feel it.   the last few weeks while i stare at Poet and whatever she is doing at the time, my mind wonders taking along with it my heart to the adoption day, the court room. Although i do not know how these things play out, i do not know who will be there and who will not but i imagine some sort of final word from the Judge making it clear we are now the legal parents to our daughter and as she finishes i clench Poet and K and Sob uncontrollably from happiness all the while letting go of the fear. This scenario has been playing in my head often as of late and when it does, i find myself sobbing and shaking.

I am not supposed to go there in my mind, heart  is not supposed to feel or experience this emotionally just yet, but it does.  there is no wall to protect me now, i am wide open ready, waiting, scared but fully believing.

* the state might make me take this photograph down, i understand.

Thursday, April 24


Spring is taking it's time to settle in, i am okay with that watching her ( spring) dance in slow motion
across the hill is beautiful.  I am taking a moment to sit at my desktop, it has been ages and little hands and feet hardly allow me the luxury but i needed to write this morning. Sitting up next to the window as the sun comes in on a cool spring morning.  The wind an overnight companion lingers on and i feel as if she is tapping on the window with two hands telling me something, but what?  I think if i was too be honest with myself she would  be saying, letting go now, right now.  i ignore the now part but slowly i can feel my hands go from a clenched fist to a more relaxed grip, small steps. I have always been a leaper, diving in blindly and full heartily but my heart now belongs to Poet and i must be careful more than care free.

I am in love with so much these days, music, words and beautiful written letters and emails from true friends, glimpses into their worlds and everyday. I am in love with what I see with my eyes, i can watch her my little being do most anything and it is poetry. I have stopped doing so many things i love, but slowly i begin to revisit  them.

I want to say, i love you dear reader,  one should hear those words more than once in a long while.

Saturday, March 22

spring is stirring inside of me

in the last few weeks, just beneath the surface of my skin, like what is happening underneath the layer of dirt, something in me is growing. Even though ice and worry keeps both the greens under my feet and the seed in me from breaking through completely, i begin to form. I have done things to sabotage myself for years, a protection, away of controlling the outcome even if it is failing. I have failed myself often, i give my all to other people- i love to see people sore, shone, fly and even though i have played the film inside the walls of my heart over and over again of actually trying to fly myself. I somehow never seem to put that much energy, encouragement, i just do not give myself what i need to succeed.

I am forming, i need to give myself the chance to fully bloom and all the risks that come with it will be no worse than not actually do it. Today i stared at the horse above and as a mix of wind and sun blew it's beautiful mane, i remember wanting to feel the wind in my hair, from somewhere high or breathing in moment that you know you made it happen.

So tonight i am writing myself a plan, steps, words, films and music anything i need to get my feet running. when the ice melts, i will be ready.

p.s. i am the happiest i have ever been,, having Poet in my life.  all of me has gone into securing her future here on the hill and now recognizing that i depleted some parts of me that need to be refilled.

Sunday, March 16

winter lingers on

Winter has decided  to stay it's full term and intertwined with it are some old feelings. everyday i learn a bit about myself but mostly i learn about her. I hear all my favorite instruments, the violin, the piano and cello when i stare at her. her face is brighter then any sun and lovelier still then any sunset. This weekend i cried randomly caught of guard, it was not fear ( well maybe a little) but mostly at the cheer amazement that she is here, she is here at my kitchen table, in my arms, her head lays on my pillow and her hand reaches out to hold my mine. she is here and with me.

I am listening to beautiful music play as i type this, i am also reading before bed again- oh how i missed it. The book is about Happiness and can we make ourselves even happier than we are, i am up for that challenge although i suspect that in a few months my happiness will be off the charts.

 I am filled with things i want to write, some about Poet, some about me and the changes that have taken place but none of it i can tell is coming out right now, so i will leave you  for now and wish you well.

Thursday, February 27

a miracle.

Dear Friends, yesterday in court we were given the most beautiful gift, Poet's mother relinquished her rights making us Poet's only parents. I believe that all your well wishes along with my families help make this miracle happen.  I am, i believe still in shock, it was a very powerful and kind moment that i was able to share with her birth mother one that has not quiet sunk in yet.  I know that  this is real and beautiful and everything i had hoped for and now i wait to legally adopt my little girl to completely feel
the reality of this incredible news.  I love her so very much and i am heading home to montreal to be with my family and perhaps to be able to truly cry in the protection of their loving arms.

Thank you dear, dear friends i can never express that enough and in a short few months (to long still) i will be able to introduce you fully to this incredible being named Poet.

Sunday, February 23

in her glance

 It is late, everyone's asleep from little Poet to the dogs, horses and roosters. music quietly pouring out of speakers. Again words are trapped in me somehow the flesh is thick and the skin is paper thin.

This week, my mind and heart travelled to one of those places that seem endlessly dark one that has you believe the worst is possible, my feet fumbled, my mind crashed into windowless walls  and breathing was barely possible,  my physical body mimicking all that my soul was feeling. A frantic call for a soothing voice was met with silence or worse " what do you want me to say"….

Violins are playing now, no i mean literally and there is such deep stirring created by them and in the same time light filters in , i am awake, alive i can not lie and it's becoming clearer to me how much i have been holding my breath since April of last year when Poet entered my life with the very second came the most profound happiness and the most fear. Everything else i realize is barely there, attempting not to feel to much, not to say to much, not to be yet at the same time wanting to teach her all that i am.

Do you ever miss yourself, perhaps it is not proper to say it out loud but i do i miss the carefree believer in me, now believing is a risk and even though i write this i know i have completely surrendered every hope, dream, blood cell to this. I am so In love with this little being, that it is taking all i have to not show her how terrified i am of breaking in a millions unrecognizable pieces and even a tenth of second thought that she will not be mine or moreso that i will not be hers.

Do you know how incredible she is, to hear her say "hi"is joy itself, to feel her little hands on your face and watch her pop her head around the corner and smile, to have her reach for you and nestle her head on your chest till she falls asleep……….in her glance, in her hand, in her laughter i recognize what pure love really is.

we go to court on wednesday no miracle will happen in court that morning but just maybe the beginning of  the end to not being a hundred percent sure.

beautiful music here.