Most of the hedge survived and is even thriving much better than I had expected. The Aronia bushes are full of berries. The Potentilla are blooming, even though they have been on the verge of dropping their leaves, repeatedly. The Mahonias also look to be doing well.


Fresh bread.

I’m a food snob, and bread is one of the foods I am snobbiest about. Most Swedish supermarket bread is barely worth eating_ lavourless and with the mouth feel of a dry, loose sponge. Many upmarket “artisanal” breads are no better – expensive and with lots of very crusty crust and lots of big sourdoughy holes, but still without much flavour.

Eric’s breads on the other hand are so good that I can eat them every day and still not tire. Most of them I eat with only butter. There is no need for cheese or anything like that.

The bread in the photo, a scalded rye loaf with sunflower seeds and caraway seeds, is my absolute favourite. There are others that have more yummy things in them, but this one has the perfect balance between everything.


I generally don’t like buying things. But there are some categories of things that I have a hard time resisting, and buy more than I maybe really need.

Books, of course.

Soft jersey dresses with fun and colourful patterns.

Small green bowls. (Although I don’t actually have too many of these since I’ve broken a few.)

And soft, warm fleeces and hoodies in soft, warm colours. How could I possibly pass this one by, when it is snug and silky soft and the most orangey orange that I have ever seen?


He keeps growing taller and skinnier.


Aqua hair on bubbly pillowcase.


It was Ingrid’s turn to make dinner, and she picked one of her and Adrian’s favourites: stuffed bell peppers.

That whole dish has kind of come to belong to Ingrid. Both kids love her version, which is the same every time. If I tweaked it in any way (which I would, if I were to cook it) it could not be anything but inferior.

Art exhibition. Boooring. At least they had benches in some rooms.

(No, we don’t go to art exhibitions on school nights. These are from Sunday’s visit to see Lars Lerin. I got the dates mixed up when catching up with past photos.)



Adrian bought a “buried treasure” toy. He enjoyed the digging much more than I would have thought possible.

The actual treasure that came out consisted of parts for some little plastic figure and I doubt it will ever get played with. But that was never the point of this toy, anyway.


One of our visiting wasps has died.

I don’t actually know much about Lars Lerin or his works, but the little I’ve seen (including some postage stamps with winter motifs) has made me want to see more. The exhibition at Liljevalchs seemed like a great opportunity.

The exhibition was organized thematically. The winter landscapes were present, and were my favourite part of the exhibition. The light and especially twilight in them is both very real and somehow otherworldly in its soft luminosity. I wondered what I would have seen in that same place, at that same moment – would I have seen that same light in the real world, or was it only in his eyes? What would a photo of the same scene have looked like?



That same treatment applied to cityscapes from war-broken Syria was surreal. The combination of soft light and gaping holes in and between houses is jarring. Seen up close, they break down into squares of light and dark: painted from photographs, I’m pretty sure.

Other themes and topics were technically impressive but uninteresting. Especially his paintings of people felt impersonal, as if he was observing them clinically from a distance.