Today I went for a bike ride. This view is in a short distance from my home.
A popular motif in my local area 🙂
The sun is doing its best and a fresh wind creates ripples on the smooth surface of the river.
It’s spring in spite of everything! Stay Safe, Stay Well Everyone!!!
…There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in…
Anthem by Leonard Cohen
Everywhere, there are stories of helpfulness, unity and creativity.
There is light in the dark. There is a crack…
I’ll always remember this beautiful walk:
The wonderful light. The blue sky.
The church tower’s blue dial.
The sky in the sea. A communication in blue.
Joy bubbles. Overflows. Makes you invincible.
Hope fills the heart.
Springtime, The first anemones – 1889
Danish Painter: H.A. Brendekilde 1857-1942
Wikimedia Commons
The situation on Spring Equinox, 2020 by Hanna Greenwood
I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times.
But that is not for them to decide.
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
… I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
The Cloud by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I took this picture of a hail storm over the sea yesterday.
Half an hour later we were soaked by fierce storms on our way home.
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
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
Today, by Billy Collins
The smell of the sea and the sunlight playing in the waves.
White seabirds and ancient pines distorted by harsh weather.
An old murky house that immediately makes me think of smuggling raids and devious deals.
The old forest with shady winding paths, the moor and the burial mounds. A Paradise.
Dansk maler; Viggo Christian Frederik Vilhelm Pedersen
Udsigt over Tisvilde
Birth: 1854 Death: 1926
Dansk maler; P.C. Skovgaard
Udkanten af Tisvilde Hegn. Blæst
Birth: 1817 Death: 1875
Sometimes, a story sticks with me for a long time. It was such a one my friend; JJ told me about. One day he had a walk in the big old forest, Gribskov. That particular day was a day where he walked for hours without meeting anyone.
It was on his way home just before the fir trees darken the paths, that he saw two men digging between the trees up upon a hill.
One of them caught glimpse of JJ and threw the spade exclaiming: I gotta have a talk with that man down there!
My friend didn’t wait for him. He disappeared further into the forest, where the shady dark green colour becomes black and the intense scent of fir trees merge together in the silence.
Even years after hearing the story I fantasise about what they dug up – or down upon that hill.
The story popped up again when I saw the image of Hans Andersen Brændekilde, Jægeren.
I get the impression of foul play.
Jægeren by Hans Andersen Brændekilde
A Danish painter; H.A. Brændekilde
Born 7. April 1857, Brændekilde, Death 30. marts 1942, Jyllinge.
HANNA'S WALK 
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