Sometimes I have a heartfelt joy to wander aimlessly.
I didn’t plan this walk. A walk among hawthorns and deers towards the coast of Øresund.
All my worries are left and the only thing that counts is the present moment.
Our brain needs a break so our spirit can live.
There is an art to wandering. If I have a destination, a plan – an objective – I’ve lost the ability to find serendipity. I’ve become too focused, too single-minded. I am on a quest, not a ramble. I search for the Holy Grail of particularity, and miss the chalice freely offered, filled full to overflowing.
by Cathy Johnson, On Becoming Lost
I walk in the hills overlooking the glorious flashing blue Maglesø.
Vines, blackberries, apples and roses present themselves in the most attractive way.
Everywhere there is a lushness and a beauty hidden in these lovely green hills.
The Sealand Alps, a nickname for a beloved glacial landscape.
…Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.
Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays…
Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson
I kan læse mere om Maglesø på danskebjerge.dk
Endvidere kan I se Maglesø klædt i hvidt i danskebjerge.dk’s galleri.