Sometimes you don’t want to go home. Like a child who is asked to leave a new toy behind.
Ancient sunken roads lies in the forest as a relic after the vikings. Old roads that once connected the royal seat in Lejre with Elsinore.
There are many places to explore in the woods and valleys.
I have trouble finishing the excursion. But I guess that’s the finest recommendation you can offer a place 💖
The place where you lose the trail is not necessarily the place where it ends.
Tom Brown, Jr.
No, I wasn’t in any real danger except for the impact of beauty the landscape has on me.
When you wish to keep walking 😎
The area is a beautiful part of a glacial landscape.
To begin with, it was silence that dominated natures sound scape.
Weakly I could hear the children play on the other side of the lake, but then there was this deep low-frequency engine sound.
That sounds like a motocross track nearby, I said.
We stopped and looked across the bog.
Then we caught sight of millions of eyes in the water between the grasses
Hmm! Well at least a hundred.
The bog was alive. Hundreds of frogs were for congress.
A form of song contest, I think 🐸🐸🐸
When bright flowers bloom
Parchment crumbles, my words fade
The pen has dropped …
Morpheus
I had a longing for sun and bright spring flowers after seeing Jo’s post about Algarve, Portugal.
The forest wasn’t an option. None of the places I could think of was an option for that bright sunny impression ‘The beauty of an Algarve Spring’ had on me.
Then I remembered The Arboretum in Hørsholm and I wasn’t cheated.
The beautiful rhododendrons were in bloom.
The sun was out and the song thrush entertained from his large repertoire. The blackbird hummed and the bees were beeesyyy.
A marvellous walk in Denmark.
Always remember your packed lunch and leave nothing behind you but a 😊
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Anton Melbye, 1854, A Seascape. Solen staar naer horisonten. Statens Museum for Kunst
Forest and Stream! I love to trace
Your inmost depths, your watery race;
I love your dense, primeval shade,
O forest monarch! to invade.
I love, O grand, majestic Stream!
To wander where your ripples gleam,
To plunge beneath your ice-cold breast;
To seek the wild-fowl that infest
Your wooded shores; to spread the sail
In gusty breeze or howling gale;
To take the springing trout that skim
Your face, or in abysses swim;
In storm, in calm, in shade, in shine,
My heart, my steps to thee incline.
No haunts of earth so fair I deem
As Forest-side and banks of Stream!
Isaac McLellan
HANNA'S WALK 
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