A Medieval ruin, A Tunnel System and a Tinker
The party was at 17 o’clock. We can take a walk in the area before our arrival.
My suggestion was based on the fact that “The adventure is waiting for anyone who understands to grab it.” ¹
Knud Rasmussens adventures were great, but small adventures also have their time on Earth especially when time is short 🙂
It was not a sleigh ride on Greenland, an experience Knud Rasmussen would have preferred, but a hike at an old castle tower and through a tunnel system formed by the last ice age.
¹”The adventure is waiting for anyone who understands to grab it.”
Knud Rasmussen
The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
And bright are the windows of night in her tower.Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!
Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!
The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;
Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.Sigh no more pine, till the wind of the morn!
Fall Moon! Dark be the land!
Hush! Hush! Oak, ash and thorn!
Hushed by all water, till dawn is at hand!
Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute,
day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.
Stephen Vincent Benet
No wasted minutes on this icy cold spring day.
The lapwing cries and makes spectacular patterns in the air.
The horses play tag and roll in the dust.
It’s an outstanding day 🙂
The Trail That Never Ends
The temperature varied considerably depending on whether I was in the wood or out on the sunny meadow.
Steep slopes, small springs, pastures, hilly trails and a wooden pier for ‘happy swimmers’.
It was bitterly cold in the woods by the springs, and the lake didn’t tempt with a swim but I did have a great walk.
The place where you lose the trail is not necessarily the place where it ends.
Tom Brown, Jr.
Erantis
The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size.
Gertrude S. Wister
The Magical Power of Snow
The hoarse cries of a raven put me in adventure mood. A few kilometres further on, only the creaking of snow under my shoes breaks the silence, This is an amazing day after the blizzard and the light makes my heart sing.
I’m grateful for being alive.
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the withered air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, and housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
The Snow-Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson
