What a scenario. What a hike!
From Mleta to Gudauri, date 1868. The Russian-Armenian painter, Ivan Ayvazovsky, 1817-1900.
A Road between Mleta and Gudauri in Georgia
Art
Some Journeys are About a Quest
Some journeys are about a quest: An adventure, the magic of course, and about treasures and love. *
The Matterhorn
German-American painter, Albert Bierstadt
The greatest gift of life on the mountain is time. Time to think or not think, read or not read, scribble or not scribble— to sleep and cook and walk in the woods, to sit and stare at the shapes of the hills.
~ Phillip Connors
Frühling am See
Austrian painter, Alois Tott
You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain;
I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care.
As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men.
Green Mountain
~ Li Bai
The Watzmann
German Romantic landscape painter, Caspar David Friedrich
* Inspired by Tolkien ❤
Why Do We Travel?
My first encounter with mountains was in Italy.
After one night of driving, the mountains towered up in front of me.
That landscape was magnificent and impressive.
I’ll will never forget the following days on narrow mountain roads. A sublime adventure.
Danish painter, Carl Frederik Aagaard.
Amalfi Coast seen from Convento dei cappuccini – 1894
Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.
~ Anita Desai
Danish painter, Carl Frederik Aagaard.
View of the Gulf of Naples – 1871.
I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson, Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes
Danish painter, Carl Frederik Aagaard.
Lodge on Lake Como
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.
~ Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon
Danish painter, Carl Frederik Aagaard.
Pergola in Amalfi ca. 1880
Avoid the River at Midsummer Eve!
The river winds its way through the forest. It is Midsummer Eve. It’s not really dark, which make the trees stand in gloomy gray silhouettes.
No wind, no birdsong, only an eternal sound from the river.
This part of the forest has always seemed alarming and eerie.
In some places the trees are felled, some even broken.
Panic rises, he shouldn’t have mocked the water spirit, and now he has to cross the last bridge before he’s safe.
Suddenly the river is silent too! Only dark and smooth on the surface and without a sound –
This is how Selma Lagerlöf, the famous Swedish author, tells the story about the fiddler who meets Näcken in the forest.
I remembered the unhappy fiddler when I passed a house in the Swedish countryside on a quiet midsummer evening. From an open window, beautiful tones flowed from a violin and forced me to listen.
Midsummer Eve in particular is hazardous since it’s there, Näcken plays his violin, trying to lure people down into the rushing river…
Happy Midsummer 😃
Floden snor sig mellem træerne. Det er midsommeraften. Det er ikke rigtig mørkt. Det får træerne til at stå i dystre grå silhuetter.
Ingen vind, ingen fuglesang, kun den evige lyd af strømmende vand.
Denne del af skoven har altid virket alarmerende og uhyggelig.
Nogle steder er træerne væltede, og nogle er endda knust.
Panikken stiger, han skulle ikke have hånet Nøkken, og nu skal han krydse den sidste bro, før han er i sikkerhed.
Nu er floden også stille! Kun mørkt strømmende vand uden lyd –
Sådan fortæller Selma Lagerlöf om den populære spillemand, som møder Näcken i skoven en midsommeraften.
Jeg kom i tanke om historien, da jeg gik forbi et hus i Halland en midsommeraften. Fra et åbent vindue strømmede vidunderlige toner fra en violin, og tvang mig til at lytte.
Især midsommeraften er farlig, når Näcken spiller sin violin og forsøger at lokke menneskene ned i den strømmende flod.
God midsommer – Trevlig Midsommar Sverige 😀
Note
Midsummer evening Friday 25.6.2021
Spillemanden af Selma Lagerlöf
The Painting Thomas: B. Griffin (American, died 1918). Moonlight on the Delaware River, ca. 1896-1915. Oil on canvas, 29 15/16 x 40 1/16 in. (76 x 101.8 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mrs. Alfred T. Dillhoff in memory of Rosamund E. Lafferty, 54.104 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 54.104.jpg)
The Immortality of Spring
Spring – An experience in immortality.
~ Henry D. Thoreau
… Now a lady came out of the carriage …
…“Miss May,” she called herself, and wore summer clothes and overshoes. She had on a beech-tree-green silk dress, and anemones in her hair, and she was so scented with wild thyme that the sentry had to sneeze...” * H.C. Andersen
Poem of The Road
… From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loosed of limits and
imaginary lines,
Going where I list—my own master, total and abso-
lute,
Listening to others, and considering well what they
say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of
the holds that would hold me.…
~ Poem of The Road by Walt Whitman
Leave Nothing But Your Footprint ❤ Happy Walk
What is it With Trolls and Norway?
When clouds cover the sun, then mountains, trees and rocks turn into dark threatening shadows, so even the snow hides in the darkness.
Waterfalls and wild rivers orchestrate their own strangely bizarre music and the wind howls its contribution as for chasing a fear in the lonely wanderer.
Monstrous, deformed trees suddenly look like creatures from another world.
No wonder that people thought there were trolls in this incredible universe that Norway’s mountain world poses.
The paintings I have found here reveal the powerful effect that nature has had on the artists.
Norwegian romantic painter Thomas Fearnley
commons.wikimedia
… And here I met trolls. Maybe it was the river that sang like that in my ears. Maybe it was the stars that were so high up there. Maybe the feeling of loneliness in here. Maybe this weird mix of wildness and peace. Or maybe it was quite simply the change of weather that quickly crept inwards on the morning twig?
At least they came that night. It was a whole bunch of trolls. Big and heavy they rose to meet over the ridge, thick and round they rolled down from the peaks, small and shabby they emerge from the heather. They climbed awkwardly on grey stones and ravens, nodded slowly to each other, shook their hams and mumbled into the air.
They did not pay attention to me … * Kari Heftye Skollerud Journalist
Norwegian painter Hans Leganger Reusch
commons.wikimedia
Norwegian painter Johan Fredrik Eckersberg
commons.wikimedia
Anyone who has once crossed the grey mountains of Trollheimen and wandered in the lush, wooded valleys between them, listened to the restless journey of the rivers between snow-glaciers and the sea and picked the berries of late summer, will always long to return…
Trollheimen, is a mountain adventure, a mountain home that is able to enchant those who seek fresh strength in the simple life of walking.* Karl H. Brox Journalist and author
Norwegian painter and professor Johan Christian Dahl
commons.wikimedia
Leave Nothing But Your Footprint ❤ Happy Walk
Today is just that kind of day
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
~ Billy Collins
Spring in w:Gościeradz
Wiosna
Forår i landsbyen med piger i vejkanten
A spring morning in the village, overlooking Roskilde Fjord.
Røros Mining Town
Explore Røros, World Heritage area and see the magnificent photos of Røros Mining Town at the bottom of the page.
29 September 1869 – 19 June 1935
A Walk into the Twilight
When the day draws to a close and twilight fills with shadows, I see a new dimension emerges.
A universe where dreams and reality meet.
“Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.”
~ Winter-Time
by Robert Louis Stevenson
“You are always able to connect with the stars, no matter where you are. ” ~ Sjón
HANNA'S WALK 
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