HANNA'S WALK

The Renews of a weary Spirit

It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson

I’m having trouble staying inside at the moment.
Bad weather has rather been a rule than an exception for a long time.
But suddenly the light is back.
Old forgotten colours seem as new ones.
Colours vaguely remembered are back.
The warm sunny shades of the grass.
The many shades of green lichen light up on ancient oak trees.
Oh, there are many more shades than I mention here.
The ice-covered lake reflects the blue sky and makes you forget the cold.
The deer’s brown colour with beige and white markings are shining bright in the sun.
But you might get a clue from the pictures below.
The birds are singing. The deers are grazing and people are smiling happily.

On Christmas Day we went to the sea…

We could cover the windows with snow spray.
If we do that, we don’t have to look at the horrible weather.
We were seated at a wonderful Christmas table though the view towards the sea was blurred.
The rocky coastline faded away in a rough sea and heavy rain.
However, we quickly forgot the weather in the cheerful company with anecdotes, singing and delicious food.
On Christmas Day the weather was excellent, the rain had stopped 🙂

To our dear hosts:
May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Robert Frost

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