HANNA'S WALK

An Act of Remembrance

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows; –
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are; – a fairy tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
Holidays by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

Never make a decision on an empty stomach

It was cold, it was windy, and he was tired and hungry after a long walk. I’m talking about one of my neighbours.
Suddenly he was standing in front of a flooded path in the bog and he didn’t want to go a detour to reach home.
I can easily balance on a wooden log, he thought.
Maybe it was the idea of freshly brewed coffee and newly baked buns, which left the doubt off.
It all went well, right up until one of the wooden logs gave in to the weight.
The boot slipped on the greasy surface, and he fell into the bog. He couldn’t reach the bottom with his feet but managed to grab one of the wooden logs and pull himself up on the path.
The stench of the rotten bog water, and the cold weather made him capitulate.
He phoned home. But he had to sit on a thick layer of newspapers all the way.
It’s a funny story, but only because of a happy ending.
Always remember your packed lunch and leave only your footprints behind ❤

Det var koldt, det var blæsende, og han var træt og sulten efter en lang gåtur. Jeg taler om én af mine naboer.
Nu stod han foran en oversvømmet sti i mosen, og han ønskede ikke at tage en omvej for at komme hjem.
Jeg kan nemt balancere på træstammen, tænkte han.
Måske var det ideen om friskbrygget kaffe og nybagte boller, der efterlod enhver tvivl.
Det hele gik godt, indtil én af træstammerne gav efter for vægten.
Støvlen gled på den fedtede overflade, og han faldt i mosen.
Han kunne ikke nå bunden med fødderne, men formåede at gribe fat i én af træstammerne og trække sig op på stien.
Stanken af det rådne mosevand, og kulden fik ham til at kapitulere.
Han ringede hjem. Men han var nødt til at sidde på et tykt lag aviser hele vejen.
Det er en sjov historie, men kun fordi det gik godt.
God tur, husk endelig madpakken og efterlad kun dine fodspor ❤

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.

Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø
Ved Sjælsø

The place where you lose the trail is not necessarily the place where it ends.
Tom Brown, Jr.

Keep your faith in the invisible light

We were late. Was it possible to complete the walk around the lake before nightfall?
We can turn around if necessary, I said. Thus encouraged, we started the walk that’s cherished by so many people. Whether it’s because of the wren that jumps around in the undergrowth, the sheep on the meadow, the soft call of the bullfinch, hovering buzzards, squealing ducks or the blue flash of the kingfisher, I do not know.
But one thing is certain, people love the area and so do I.

The eastern light our spires touch at morning,
The light that slants upon our western doors at evening,
The twilight over stagnant pools at batflight,
Moon light and star light, owl and moth light,
Glow-worm glowlight on a grassblade.
O Light Invisible, we worship Thee!

T.S. Eliot

Keep your faith in beautiful things;
in the sun when it is hidden,
in the Spring when it is gone.

Roy R. Gibson

Shelter From The Rain

When have you last sought shelter from the rain under a tree in the forest?
Standing there when raindrops are falling on withered leaves and the scent of rain fills and enriches the air you breathe.
I did that a few days ago when the sun and rain in turn were stars on a beautiful March day.

Gribskov
“I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets. It has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful. Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and benumbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me – I am happy.”
By Hamlin Garland, McClure’s, February 1899

Det er hvidt herude
Kyndelsmisse slår sin knude
overmåde hvas og hård
hvidt forneden, hvidt foroven
pudret tykt står træ i skoven
som udi min abildgård

St. St. Blicker 1838

Kyndelmisse falder 40 dage efter jul. Kyndelmisse var en officiel helligdag i Danmark indtil 1770.

Kyndelmisse var også en vigtig folkelig fest. Den markerede, at halvdelen af vinterhalvåret var gået. For bønderne var det en vigtig dag, for her skulle de helst have halvdelen af vinterforrådet af mad og dyrefoder tilbage for at klare sig igennem foråret.

Kyndelmisse er kendt for at være årets koldeste tid. Der knytter sig mange varsler og forudsigelser om det kommende år til kyndelmisse.

Hvis Solen skinner klart på Kyndelmissedag, så vil der følge meget sne herefter
Hvis det sner Kyndelmissedag kommer våren tidligt
Hvis lærken høres første gang Kyndelmissedag bliver det tidligt forår

I søndags var vi på tur. Solen skinnede og der stod mange erantis i skovbunden.
I dag på Kyndelmissedag sner det. Det har været en kold dag, og hvis det sner på Kyndelmissedag, kommer våren tidligt ❤ 🙂

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