Above all do not lose your desire to walk. Everyday I walk myself into a state of well being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. But by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill … if one keeps on walking everything will be alright.
Søren Kierkegaard.
A nation that destroys its soils destroys itself. Forests are the lungs of our land, purifying the air and giving fresh strength to our people.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
There are quiet in the forest. Birch trunks stand naked in the shade. Their branches reach up into the low sun.
Then suddenly I hear a strange sound.
The sound of thawing branches complaining their distress.
While the night’s hard frost turns into a liquid form, yet to freeze once more when it hits the forest floor.
The forest lies quiet waiting for the snow.
There is a warning of snow in the air today. It’s cold by the lake and clouds are looming at a blue sky.
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 trees branches, bent to the ground by the airy beautiful substance of transformation.
Drowned paths impassable in spring when the stuff melts.
What was white and clean, is now brown, black and sticky.
Soon substance of transformation tumbles in beautifully decorated pipes.
Excellent arteries are living and sparkling in light summer rain.
Then slowly the tumbling stops and paths are covered with gold.
Days grow shorter and colder.
Trees stately sleep when airy transformation fluff feathery paint the tree branches white.
Bend them to the ground when transformation fluff are numerous enough…
Hanna Greenwood
Going to the woods is going home.
John Muir
We walk silent between dolmens and burial mounds. Trees stand as exuberant dragons in the afternoon sun. A fallen tree trunk in the sun forms a bench. The trunk lies up against a huge dolmen. We hear some faint indefinable sounds near the dolmen, but there is nothing to see.
Then suddenly a squirrel rush towards a lovely tree and disappears up the tree trunk in small glimpses.
Mysterious noises and large dolmens.
I thought Halloween had business with spirits in the graves.
Clouds gather, treetops toss and sway;
But pour us wine, an old one!
That we may turn this dreary day
To golden, yes, to golden!
Autumn has come, but never fear,
Wait but a little while yet,
Spring will be here, the skies will clear,
And fields stand deep in violets.
The heavenly blue of fresh new days
Oh, friend, you must employ them
Before they pass away. Be brave!
Enjoy them; oh, enjoy them!
Theodor Storm, A Song in October
Note
I kan læse mere om Agersø og Rude Skov her hos Naturstyrelsen
God tur derude og husk madpakken.
Det er sidste chance for at opleve naturens farver, nu tager blæsten det smukke gyldne løv.
“If you’re not living on the edge you’re taking up too much space.”
Stephen Hunt
This was his summer cottage. I overheard the conversation between two women passing me when I was going down the hill.
A summer cottage I thought? Knud Rasmussen was preparing for his expeditions as a polar explorer and wrote his travel books, scientific reports, tales and legends in this place.
In the windswept house overlooking the sea, he shared his adventures with us.
It’s a grand tale of a man who always were out on an adventure. In reality or in his thoughts.
Knud Rasmussen died in 1933, 54 years old.
Peter Freuchen, another great polar explorer and friend wrote these words after Knud’s death:
“Knud Rasmussen was a man who endured to be viewed close up without losing in value.”
Did Knud Rasmussen take up to much space? He only became 54 years old, but he achieved much more than most people do in a lifetime.
Note
Behind the town lies Knud Rasmussen’s house on a 30 meter high cliff
The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me.
The summit of the mountain,
the thunder of the sky,
speaks to me.
The faintness of the stars,
the trail of the sun,
the strength of fire,
and the life that never goes away,
they speak to me.
And my heart soars.
Chief Dan George
The old town of Elsinore is like stepping into a fairy tale. One sunny day we went for a stroll from the harbour to Kronborg Castle. Old medieval buildings lure with history, interesting facts and legends. Elsinore and Kronborg Castle always entice with a tale.
Copyright © Hanna Greenwood, Hanna’s Walk 2016.
Note
Elsinore by Wikipedia
HANNA'S WALK 
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