This picture painted in 1908 by the Danish painter Harald Slott Georg Moller, is precisely the intense atmosphere I associate with midsummer.
I think it is the finest evening of the year.
Sankthans
#Outdoor
The Oak Department
The Great Deer Park has trees for everyone. The old oak department is a department of its own. I’ve found shelter in an old hollow oak on a snowy day.
On The Small Roads
Bike riding on the small country roads in North Zealand is very enjoyable.
Mind you the last picture is the entrance to a farm with highland cattle 🙂
A Bench With a View
A Happy Change
I had a lovely shift in the weather yesterday:
A grey sky is broken,
by a fresh wind.
The smell of brine, and dog rose.
A new poem begins,
one full of play and white horses.
The Western Wind
The weather often changes in Denmark.
The western wind brings a raft of low pressure across the country
An idyllic quiet day by the sea
A creation of some outstanding clouds in the sky.
Kite surfing in icy weather
Storm coming up
Enjoying the day despite the lack of sun
A joyous speed on a beautiful stormy day
The Italian Look
The last Day in May
Wind in my hair and the scent of lilacs.
The blackbird is singing, accompanied by a woman’s soft humming.
That is the poetry of nature the last day in May.
A wonderful Hawthorn
Tucked between the trees is a magnificent house listed in oak for the deer’s food
One among many moods of the ancient Rådvad
An anonymous mass grave from the cholera epidemic in Copenhagen in 1853, is hidden under hawthorns inside the gate of Taarbæk
Click my picture above to read my post about the Death and the Hawthorn
A path along the anonymous graves in Taarbæk
The pond at Rådvad
Another atmosphere provided from Rådvad
Exotic Words and Places
I love the writing by the Danish author, Henrik Nordbrandt. His words create amazing scenarios in the cinema of my soul.
Exotic words and places, become like little boats broken loose from their moorings, to drift off in high sea. Soon up, soon down. Soon up, overlooking magnificent palaces, and exuberant crowds, soon down, where only half-truths are revealed and the rest is filled with the invigorating power of imagination.
… Around your figure stands an aura, like a blooming hawthorn had set itself on fire to surpass your shadow in beauty.
Added strings to your being would deepen the silence
or make the strings burst into song …
This poetry is taken from a wonderful poem, Alcyone and translated by myself. Forgive me for that!
Softly…
Softly the evening came with the sunset.
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
HANNA'S WALK 
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