This morning I read in Dagens Nyheter (Swedish only) that the royal palace in Stockholm has finally been lit up at nights and the results are impressive.




If you open the link to the article, there are pictures at the side showing the before and after shots and I think you will agree that the new lighting enhances the view. I've never particularly liked the palace building itself. Yes, it's big, boasting a whopping 608 rooms, but it is rather a square, utilitarian, severe and dour looking building and really never shakes off the original cold fortress look. What saves it from getting one of my Fugly Building Awards is the setting itself - overlooking the glittering waters of the Baltic. I can forgive almost any kind of architectural style if it can command a water view and in Stockholm, you are surrounded by water.

There has been a long discussion about lighting of significant public buildings in the city. There are those who argue for the full Disney-land treatment and a strong core of those who want it all dark, but it seems that the middle way is slowly winning and several buildings were tentatively lit up over winter to gauge public opinion. This has largely been positive and the palace with it's dignified lighting looks quite spectacular, so I hope it will extend to other major buildings as well.

At the moment, there is a decreasing need for artificial lighting as the days are lengthening at a rapid rate as we say goodbye to winter once again. The icicles that have been decorating my balcony for the last three months are finally melting and everything I do is accompanied by the noise of water dripping.




Outside the sun is returning and small oases of grass can be seen here and there, though I don't want to derive any real hope from this just yet. I know that as soon as I do express any hope, the snow will surely arrive! Sod's law, what can I say? But there has been progress. My clever man has put together a couple of photos taken three weeks apart so you can compare the difference yourself. First a building just down the road:




I know, I know - the "before" shot is much prettier. I agree that the snow and blue skies is enchanting and the early spring in the northern hemisphere looks all wrong to our southern eyes, but Swedes rejoice at that sight. To explain to Swedish readers, in Australia spring is really green and fresh in colour. We have had winter rains, mild weather and the plants are lush, green with bursts of bright flowers. Many of our native trees never lose their leaves, so in spring it is a profusion of new growth, nothing like the vaguely yellowed and dead looking landscape that you see in the northern hemisphere. I'm more used to it now, but the first couple of years confused my senses totally.

The next shot is of the cars parked in the street behind our building:




Man, that first red car is still parked there! Yes, I'd say this looks better. At least you don't have to bring a shovel with you to get out of your parking place. I cracked up at the little box of equipment Lars-Göran used to keep in the Saab - little brushes, shovel, scraper etc. But as I've mentioned before, it is all a necessary part of the joys of winter motoring in Sweden.

And finally, the main street outside the supermarket:




Well, there's not much you can do to improve the ghastly frontage of the shop (you'd cry if you could see what they ripped down to build this colossal piece of fugliness) but it does look a little less depressing without the white blanket, though you'd be wise to keep your skates on as the road is now slick and deadly.

Over the winter, I had vivid dreams of walking through the woods in a chorus of bluebirds under a canopy of fresh apple blossoms — those dreams kept me going when the snow was deep, temperatures plummeted, and the wind howled in the eaves. For the first time this year, I can believe it is possible. Now I sit on the balcony, with my back against the wall and raise my face to the good Spring sunshine, in the wise words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, "lifting my heart toward heaven like a hungry beggar".