No lies, what does it feel like to hit rock bottom?

The Croatian word for March is Ožujak, which has two possible interpretations. It could be connected to the weasel (lasica), which is a nod to creatures emerging from winter hibernation; or more pertinently, that it derives from the word laž, the "lying month".

Just as you think spring has arrived, there is serious snowfall and biting cold wind. A mix of hope and despair.

February, large fires and ferocious weather

The Croatian word for February is veljača and is derived from old Slavic roots relating to changing or shifting, often referring to the moody, unstable weather of the month. And certainly this month has lived up to its reputation with a heady mix of rain, wind, cold, fog, and then the occasional promisingly sunny day.

What have we achieved over the past few weeks? 

Hard work for a hard month

The Croatian word for January, siječanj, is most often associated with the verb "to cut". Traditionally, the name is thought to denote the time when wood was cut (seča drva) or to symbolise the harsh, "cutting" cold and frost - something that has plagued us since before Christmas.

Another Brick in the Wall

Walls. What is “wall”? Is it a mental block where you are struggling to find the words to express ongoing emotional mayhem? Perhaps it is the concrete shell of a house which needs styrapol, glue and render to protect it from the elements? 

Or even better, maybe it is an absence of wall, where one has fallen down.

Clips from village life in Autumn: Grape jelly, caterpillars, and dubious trucks

Three recent snapshots from September 2025, just little sketches to remind us to laugh at the ridiculous. It doesn't get more ridiculous than too many grapes, unknown baby plants, and a really dangerous truck!

Snakes and ladders, and other nonsense

Where are we at the village house after this two-week hiatus of moving? After the house move, my routine is definitely out of whack, which combined with a head cold allergy combo, meant that my brain was feeling a bit scatty (no change there then!). I forgot my coat, the firelighters, and the better-tasting bread. Such is life. This blocked nose didn't bode well for all the bending over and hacking at weeds.

Steps, swearing and cats; Or going up in the world...

What is the point of having a second storey if there is no way up? That is to say, there is a way up but if you have vertigo as bad as me, then there is not a chance of getting me up that step ladder. It is a perfectly wonderful, sturdy well-put-together ladder, as demonstrated by my large Dalmatian man scooting up and down it. Am I going up it? No. I am told I am missing out on the untold beauties of the view from the terrace. Still not going up there.

We need something more permanent and vertigo-friendly. If you look around at many of the houses around the village and beyond, most of the Dalmatian concrete houses of the '80s look similar; a large rectangular footprint, reminiscent of a child’s drawing, with a front door centred between two windows that open onto a long terrace. Upstairs, the layout repeats, typically reached by a set of concrete steps along the side.

Autumn postcards of village life

Two small pieces about recent events. Life in the village has hotted up, just as the weather has cooled down. I'm just grateful that we have a wood-burning stove to make hot tea when we are working. Obviously this is based on fact but some elements have been embroidered where necessary!