The great call of love

Iveta Vecenāne

August 2 – September 1, 2018

The flight.
The great call of love. One of the most gorgeous days of the month of July, when the white cabbage butterflies appear. Two by two, two by two they ascend into the blue sky, dancing their dance of love. But our practical Grandmother only had her cabbage patch on her mind. If the butterflies managed to multiply, they would eat all the cabbages meant for winter. So we got busy catching butterflies. No need to mention that we never actually caught any of the white creatures, we only trampled up the furrows and broke off the big cabbage leaves.
Grandmother didn't realize that the uncontrollable power of love governs the order of things on earth, and you cannot catch the uncatchable.

The hawk.
Our home. Our farm. A hawk lives in the forest nearby. Once in a while a chicken goes missing, or a chick, but Grandfather just says - it's his own little pet, and lets him flap his grand wings above our house. Guardian of the skies.