The Northern Mill on a Snowy Day

Becoming a White House

Light

“The cold was our pride, the snow was our beauty. It fell and fell, lacing day and night together in a milky haze, making everything quieter as it fell, so that winter seemed to partake of religion in a way no other season did, hushed, solemn.”
~ Patricia Hampl 

The snow came Wednesday. It swirled against the windows, time and again, as if it wanted to draw attention to itself. Large flakes of tiny ice crystals. It was melting snow yet it piled itself up in the streets as if it hadn’t heard about the laws of nature.

Crepet New Year’s hair

I’m are not supposed to feed the horses, but an apple fell out of my pocket 😂😂

Snow on Wednesday?

“I miss the snow. I miss looking at it, walking in it, tasting it. I used to love those days when it was so cold everyone else would be tucked away inside trying to stay warm. I would be the only one out walking, so I could look across the fields and see miles of snow without a single footprint in it. It would be completely silent – no cars, no birds singing, no doors slamming. Just silence and snow.”
By Damien Echols

The Shortest Day

A nice memory to celebrate Winter-Solstice

Elves, Dragons, Stars and Fairies

All magical creatures seem to manifest in a frozen tableau only to perish by the red flames of the sun.

“Promise to stay wild with me.
We’ll seek and return and stay and find beauty
and the extraordinary in all the spaces we can claim.
We´ll know how to live.
How to breathe magic into the mundane.”
By Victoria Erickson

Dark, Cold and Windy mixed with Rain

When the Sun goes Down

“Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.

leaving you, not really belonging to either,
not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns to a star each night and climbs-

leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.”

Sunset by Rainer Maria Rilke is a favourite poem of mine ✨✨✨

Far away lies Kullaberg in Sweden

A winter evening in Gilleleje