HANNA'S WALK

The Wonderful World of June

A bike ride in the countryside in June is an encouraging happening. I felt as a child in Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem, The Swing:

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside.
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown–
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

Rejoice, it’s been raining. Insects are buzzing and the birds are happier than ever.

Now summer is in flower and natures hum 
Is never silent round her sultry bloom 
Insects as small as dust are never done 
Wi’ glittering dance and reeling in the sun 
And green wood fly and blossom haunting bee 
Are never weary of their melody 
Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine 
Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbine 
That lift athirst their slender throated flowers 
Agape for dew falls and for honey showers 
These round each bush in sweet disorder run 
And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun …
–  John Clare, June

An Act of Remembrance

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows; –
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are; – a fairy tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
Holidays by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

The Old Hawthorns In The Plague Cemetery

Idyllic, that’s the impression you get when you look at the old hawthorns in the sunshine.
That was also my first thought Saturday night.

I took a shortcut across the plain after visiting some friends.
A reflection of the sun light in the night sky intensified the sight of the old hawthorns.
The tree crowns seem to hover over the plain as white luminous domes.
But when I got closer, it was the wavy, crippled tree trunks, and a heavy nauseating odour of flowers that dominated.
It looked as if the deformed trees had been trying to flee away from bites of the deer, twisting their long limps across the ground.

I chose a shortcut between the trees even though my intuition told me not to.
The silence was unmistakable and I saw no people around.
I ignored my instincts, and concentrating on the direction, and the many roots of the trees.
It was more of a sensation than a sight, as a white shadow emerged behind a tree and disappeared behind the next.

I lost concentration and fell into the roots. The pain jogged through my whole body. I was lying for a second, that felt like an eternity.
It was as if the whole body was sleeping. I had difficulty lifting arms and legs.
Suddenly I saw why. I lay under the tree trunks. My anxiety caused me to stiffen, just as the crippled tribes.

A flickering light made me look up. A light that danced around the trees to a chorus of bird voices.
Time went to a halt and I slept. For how long I don’t know, but when I woke up the sun had risen.

I got up stumbled and started walking. It was only after a few steps that I remembered the hawthorns ruthless grip in me.
I looked back over my shoulder. Behind me fled scared horses while the hawthorns had started to move.

The sight of the long crawling roots pursued me all the way to my front door.
Small roots and twigs began to penetrate the cracks in my house, crawling across the floor.

Exactly at that time, the doorbell made me freeze.

“Do you need help in the garden?”

That’s my neighbour, calling me through an open window.
I wake up happy of my self-created nightmare.

What a relief to return to the everyday 🙂

Idyllisk, det er det indtryk, du får, når du ser de gamle hvidtjørne i solskinnet.
Det var også min første tanke lørdag aften, da jeg tog en genvej over sletten efter at have besøgt nogle venner.
En afspejling af sollyset i nathimlen intensiverede synet af de gamle træer.
Trækronerne synes at svæve over sletten, som hvide lysende kupler.
Men da jeg kom tættere på, var det de bølgede, krøllede træstammer, og en tung kvalmende lugt af blomster der dominerede.
Det så ud som om de deformerede træer havde forsøgt at flygte væk fra hjortenes bid, vridende deres lange lemmer hen over jorden.

Jeg valgte en genvej mellem træerne, selv om min intuition fortalte mig det modsatte.
Tavsheden var umiskendelig, og der var ikke spor af andre mennesker.
Jeg ignorerede mine instinkter og koncentrede mig om retningen og træernes mange rødder.

Det var mere en fornemmelse end et syn, da en hvid skygge kom frem bag et træ og forsvandt bag det næste.
Jeg tabte koncentrationen og faldt i rødderne. Smerten jog gennem hele kroppen. Jeg lå et øjeblik, der føltes som en evighed.
Det var som om hele kroppen sov. Jeg havde svært ved at løfte arme og ben. Pludselig så jeg hvorfor. Jeg lå under træstammerne.
Min angst fik mig til at stivne, akkurat som de krøblede stammer.

Et flimrende lys fik mig til at kigge op. Et lys, der dansede rundt om træerne til et kor af fuglestemmer.Tiden gik i stå, og jeg sov.
Hvor længe ved jeg ikke, men da jeg vågnede var morgenen begyndt at gry.

Jeg rejste mig, og begyndte at gå. Det var først efter et par skridt, at jeg huskede hvidtjørnens hensynsløse greb i mig.
Jeg kiggede tilbage over min skulder. Bag mig flygtede bange heste, mens træerne var begyndt at kravle.
Synet af de lange krybende stammer forfulgte mig hele vejen til min hoveddør.

Små rødder og kviste begynder at trænge ind i revnerne i mit hus og kravle over gulvet.
Præcis på det tidspunkt får dørklokken mig til at fare sammen.
“Har du brug for hjælp i haven” Det er min glade nabo, der kalder på mig gennem et åbent vindue.
Jeg vågner glad fra mit selvbestaltede mareridt.
Hvilken lettelse at vende tilbage til hverdagen 🙂

%d bloggers like this: