Coming home...

... to Sweden is precious, every time.

All images today are from my parents' garden and the lovely lake nearby. Everything in the garden has been built by my parents and mostly my father. The main house and all the outbuildings, the pond, the wishing well, all the stone walls, the very raised vegetable beds (painted brick imitation above) to accommodate my mother (whose hip no longer allows bending over to tend to the vegetables), pergolas, "pot men", and much more - all born out of my father's hands. He is, it has to be said, more than a little trigger happy with the cement mixer, and evidence is everywhere in the shape of benches, the "HEJ" sign and numerous other concrete constructions. 

My father is not a builder by trade, but stubborn as a mule and a lot of the above mentioned accomplishments were built purely by the attitude that "nothing is impossible, I just have to find out how to do it". 

This blog entry is dedicated to my lovely parents, without whom I would be lost.