Another Baltic Christmas - Day 8, God's eyes

On Day eight of 24 Days of a Baltic Christmas we welcome Lelde of the blog Dabas mamma. You might remember her from last year’s delightfully playful feather snowballs, or you might have already stumbled upon her blog on your search for crafts inspired by nature and the outdoors.

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Kad biju maza, Ziemassvētku laiku pavadīju pie savas omītes laukos. Nedēļas nogales, garās ziemas brīvdienas un vasaras, likās es tur dzīvoju visu laiku!

When I was young I spent the holidays on my grandmother’s farm. Weekends, Christmas vacation and summers, it felt like I was there all the time!

Tās sajūtas, smaržas, krāsas....

The feelings, the smells, the colors...

Tuvojoties Ziemassvētkiem laikam, mājā bija jūtams neparasts svētku miers. Vecmāmiņas svētdienas plācmaizes smarža, malkas dziesmiņa, krāsnij kuroties,  skuju vainadziņš. Ak jā, sniegs, likās tas vienmēr bija svētku laikā un tik DAUDZ!

On the approach of Christmas a sense of peace permeated the house. The smell of grandmother’s Sunday tarts, the song of the firewood in the woodstove, the fir wreath. Oh yes, and the snow, there seemed to always be snow around the holidays, and LOTS OF IT!

Krāsaini dzijas pavedieni, mazi koka skaliņi izbērti uz galda, tapa pirmie svētku rotājumi - dziju rombiņi. Man tik ļoti patika skatīties, kā krāsiņām mainoties tapa svētki. Drīz jau pati mācēju tos taisīt, liekot skaliņus krustiņā un vijot pavedienu aiz pavediena. Tik vienkārši un tik īpaši. Likās, es tajos iepinu ko nozīmīgu.

Colorful yarn skeins, little twigs scattered on the table, so were born the first holiday ornaments – God’s eyes. I loved to watch how through the progression of colors Christmas arrived. Soon I could make them myself, forming a cross of twigs and weaving around thread after thread. So simple, yet so particular. It seemed something meaningful was woven into them.

Dienu pirms Ziemassvētkiem, kad eglīti atnesa mājās, bērnu pienākums bija to izpušķot. Es savus sapītos rombiņus gribēju uzkārt zārā, kur tos vislabāk varēja redzēt. Iekarot eglītē, tie atdzīvojās. Griežoties uz riņķi vien. Te sarkana krāsa, te atkal dzeltaini pavedieni pazibēja. Vērot un domāt, kas tas ir, kas tos iegriež?  Vai eglītes gariņš, vai vējš, kas āra durvīm atveroties, ieskrien neaicināts?

It was the responsibility of the children to decorate the Christmas tree when it was brought home on the day before Christmas. I wanted to hang my ornaments on the branch upon which they could best be seen. Once hung, they came alive. Spinning in circles. Now red, now yellow again as the threads zipped around. Watching and thinking, what is it that turns them so? The spirit of the Christmas tree, or the wind entering the house uninvited?

Laikam ejot un pašas bērniem augot, tā īpašā svētku smarža, atmiņas un sajūtas ir atgriezušās. Kā rombiņam griežoties eglītē, es sežu pie galda ar bērniem, visriņķī krāsaini dziju gabaliņi, skaliņi un top pašu darinātie rotājumi.

As time goes by and the children grow, the special holiday scent, memories and feelings have returned. As a God’s eye spinning in the Christmas tree, I’m sitting at the table with my children, colorful yarn pieces and twigs all around, handmade ornaments in the works.

Pēc 25 gadiem es zinu atbildi uz manu uzdoto jautājumu. Tie esam mēs paši. Es to sapinot arī iegriežu. Četri gadalaiki  sapīti ar  krāsainiem un interesantiem pavedieniem - kāds būs mans gads.  Tas griežas tik ātri, cik es to vēlos. Ja kādreiz likās tas griežas ļoti ātri, tad tagad, rokās to paceļot, rombiņš lēni un cēli griež manu nākamo gadu.

After 25 years I know the answer to my question. It is us. In weaving the God’s eye I am also turning it. Four seasons woven with vibrant and interesting threads – what the next year will bring. It only turns as fast as I will it. If once it turned too fast, then now, lifting it in my hands, the God’s eye slowly and graciously turns my future.

Bet pagaidām, lai tie priecājas, sagūluši uz adventes vainaga. Lai nesteidzina to īpašo laiku, kad dabā notiek kas mierīgs, cēls un neparasts. Kad saule vēl tik tālu, bet zinu, tā tūlīt jau parādīsies. Skatoties uz savu šī gada rombiņu, atceros par aizvadīto gadu, cik daudz tomēr man ir dots. Cik īpašs šis laiks, šie mirkļi. Un atceros, ko mana omīte teica, liekot žāvētus ābolus uz svētku plācmaizes: “Meitiņ, šis ir mirklis, ko tu atcerēsies vislabāk. Nesteidzini to, bet izdzīvo!” 

But for now, may they rejoice in their positions on the Advent wreath. So that this special time, when Nature is calm, noble and unusual, may leisurely proceed. When the sun is still so far, but I know, that it soon will reappear. Looking at the God’s eye I’ve made this year, I muse over the past year, how blessed I was. How exceptional these moments really are. And I remember what my grandmother said while arranging dried apples on the holiday tarts: “My dear, this is a moment that you will remember with clarity. Do not rush through it, but live in it!”

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Thank you Lelde, for this emotional post! When I was a girl we utilized toothpicks for our ornaments, clipping off the sharp ends once we had formed the God’s eye. I remember watching them twist and turn, just like you did! What precious memories of your grandmother – may you someday share ones just as wonderful with your grandchildren!

(Lelde can also be found on twitter as @Dabasmamma!)