Swedish sounds: Making music by Lake Aspen
It’s hard to sense the shift in the seasons this year; rain has seemed like a permanent fixture all summer, making us appreciate the few scarce days of sunshine more than ever. We have had apple and blackberry crumble earlier than usual, and the autumn fruit’s bitter juice has flavoured many of my walks along the river banks recently.
Usually I cling on to the vestiges of summer until the first frosts come and even I can’t deny any longer that flip flops, sun dresses, and playsuits must be ditched for boots and woolies. But this year is different; this year I’m waiting impatiently for the autumn to begin. Changing leaves and shortening days means my wedding day is getting closer. I’d always thought of engagement as a romantic state to be in, teetering on the brink of a life-changing decision, a poignant farewell to a single life. In reality, though, I’ve discovered that once you’ve made up your mind about something, you generally just want to get on and do it. Engagement is a state of limbo, and I’m like a young child counting down the days till Christmas. I know the day itself will pass in a quick surreal blur, but it’s not the day I’m waiting for. I’m waiting for the rest of my life to begin; a very big adventure with a man I am crazy about by my side.
My little sister recently went camping by Lake Aspen in Sweden for a couple of weeks, and came back with some breathtakingly beautiful photographs and some equally gorgeous music. She and her friends took all of their instruments with them and recorded some mellow tracks by lantern-light in a deserted band stand in the forest. Listening to them, you can almost see the stars in the clear night sky. I’m trying to persuade them to release their Swedish lake-side music as an EP on iTunes, but in the meantime, here is one of my sister’s songs. It’s the soundtrack to my last few months before I plunge into the mysteries of marriage.
