Although we were not in the village for most of the winter it was fascinating to observe the preparations for this slow-down season when the weather very clearly dictates what can and can't be done.
The year-round sameness that we have grown accustomed to in our ordinary, other lives has alienated us from our connection to mother earth: we have become used to working in temperature-controlled conditions; to the constant availability of most food-stuffs quite unrelated to their natural seasonality; to always rushing around (and ironically feeling we have not achieved enough) instead of taking our cue from nature's patterns of light and dark, warmth and cold, to slow down...
The year-round sameness that we have grown accustomed to in our ordinary, other lives has alienated us from our connection to mother earth: we have become used to working in temperature-controlled conditions; to the constant availability of most food-stuffs quite unrelated to their natural seasonality; to always rushing around (and ironically feeling we have not achieved enough) instead of taking our cue from nature's patterns of light and dark, warmth and cold, to slow down...
The Bulgarian winter, for those who live in rural areas, dictates a rest from the intensive labor on the land; a diet of warm and comforting soups and stews; a time to spend indoors with friends and neighbors; a time to enjoy creativity. Amongst the many traditional crafts practised in the village during the winter months is the weaving of corn mats from the outer husks of the maize picked at the end of the summer. We were lucky enough to be invited to one of the villager's homes to see a demonstration of how this is done.
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