I don’t know about you but after a walk in the rain I found this great idea for a late summer walk in a glacial moraine landscape next to Arresø. We did the walk in the month of May, one of my favourite month.
Most of the surrounding land is made up of the last glacial moraine landscapes, but in addition there are widespread post-modern formations that are the result of land elevations, sea rises, water and wind erosion as well as sea and fresh water deposits, etc.
The central and southern part of the peninsula consists of a high-altitude, steadily hilly terrain with the highest point Maglehøj, 70 m above sea level, while the northern part consists of a low-lying, hilly terrain with the highest point of Little Maglehøj, 27 m above sea level : Naturstyrelsen
I came across wonderful poetry by Daniel March written in 1869 and found it to be a religious text. That is not my reason for quoting the poetry, but because the description reminds me of the overwhelming joy it is, to walk in nature. When the clouds cast their shadows over hills and rivers, mountains and lakes in an ever-changing game. The poetry of nature.
Clouds are among the most striking appearances in the natural world. Whether heralding the dawn with beacons of flame and banners of gold, or escorting the sun’s descending car with armies of light and sapphire thrones; whether clothing the mountains with garments of beauty, or enriching the landscape with flying shadows; whether shading the weary from the noonday heat, refreshing the field and the garden with gentle showers, or shaking the earth with mighty thunders; whether moving in silent and solitary grandeur along the blue deep of the sky, or covering the whole heavens with black and jagged masses, torn by the tempest and hurled onward like charging hosts in the shock of battle,—glorious in the morning, grateful at noonday, prophetic of the dawn at evening, clouds lend a charm to every landscape, a diversity to every season and a lesson to every thoughtful mind. No earthly scene could attract us long if deprived of light and shade from the changing clouds, and with our present feelings we should find it hard to be satisfied with heaven itself if it be one unvaried, cloudless noon. ~Daniel March, “The Balancings of the Clouds,” Our Father’s House, or the Unwritten Word, 1869
This morning the air is fresh and sweet. Fruits and berries are maturing and a soft breeze carries a wonderful scent and the promise of a favourable harvest. Time is now approaching for happy walks.
None of your knowledge, your reading, your connections will be of any use here: two legs suffice, and big eyes to see with. Walk alone, across mountains or through forests. You are nobody to the hills or the thick boughs heavy with greenery. You are no longer a role, or a status, not even an individual, but a body, a body that feels sharp stones on the paths, the caress of long grass and the freshness of the wind. When you walk, the world has neither present nor future: nothing but the cycle of mornings and evenings. Always the same thing to do all day: walk. But the walker who marvels while walking (the blue of the rocks in a July evening light, the silvery green of olive leaves at noon, the violet morning hills) has no past, no plans, no experience. He has within him the eternal child. While walking I am but a simple gaze.
Yesterday we did a wonderful walk along the coastline and through the old town of Dragør. It is a very charming town with an interesting history dating back to the 1100s. The town’s location still has an impact on the ship traffic.
Rejoice, it’s been raining. Insects are buzzing and the birds are happier than ever.
Now summer is in flower and natures hum Is never silent round her sultry bloom Insects as small as dust are never done Wi’ glittering dance and reeling in the sun And green wood fly and blossom haunting bee Are never weary of their melody Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbine That lift athirst their slender throated flowers Agape for dew falls and for honey showers These round each bush in sweet disorder run And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun … – John Clare, June
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 😊