Ice Fun in the Evening Glow

We grasp a few apples from a wooden box, on our way down the stairs. The snowy roads are quiet, and the snow sparkles in the low sun. We park our bikes up against the trees leaning over the frozen lake.

There are all kind of people out skating. Old and youngsters and those in between.

We can hear the children screaming when one of them gets caught on the frozen lake.
It’s a unified image of joy and desire for life.

The only light on the lake is the sun setting in the horizon and a few street lamps up upon the hill. Yet, it never gets completely dark. Later on the moon lights up the snow, and makes the evening unforgettable.

It is only when the cold overwhelms us that we find our way home after an experience of a lifetime.

This wonderful evocative painting from the Danish painter Anders Andersen-Lundby, refreshed one of many outings I had with my brother, when we were children.

When we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks, on either side,
Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
The rapid line of motion; then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopp’d short, yet still the solitary Cliffs
Wheeled by me, even as if the earth had roll’d
With visible motion her diurnal round;
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watch’d
Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.

William Wordsworth from “The Prelude”

冬の太陽

A Christmas Walk by the Sea

This is a magnificent beach in Sejerø Bugt in Kattegat. It’s called Gudmindrup. But don’t tell anyone. Keep it as a secret 🙂

The sea was our main entertainment. When company came, we set them before it on rugs, with thermoses and sandwiches and colored umbrellas, as if the water – blue, green, gray, navy or silver as it might be – were enough to watch. ~ Sylvia Plath

The Shortest Day

I did this walk with awe on a hard winter day in 2011. Every part of the landscape had turned itself into an adventure due to a heavy snowfall during the night.

Happy Winter Solstice

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.

~ Lewis CarrollAlice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

Thieves’ corner

Thieves’ corner! This is where abominable greedy men with murky faces hide their precious loot. They watch greedily, while tons of gold ducats, jewellery and gems are poured into treasure chests.
Are you still with me?

That’s the picture I see when I stumble across the place-name Tyvekrogen in English; thieves’ corner. But alas! The reality is less colourful. At least when I search the web.

On the other hand I’ve never checked those houses. That’s a comfort if you just like me are greatly entertained by good stories 😊

Note: Thieves’ corner is a remote clearing surrounded by scrub and woodland.

This is from a joyous walk between two lakes: Vejlesø and Furesøen.

A little note: The residential roads are among the most expensive neighbourhoods in North Zealand – apart from the fishermen’s cabins 😉

The first of December

Folios of April

These are folios of April,
All the library of spring,
Missals gilt and rubricated
With the frost’s illumining.
Ruthless, we destroy these treasures,
Set the torch with hand profane—
Gone, like Alexandrian vellums,
Like the books of burnt Louvain!
Yet these classics are immortal:
O collectors, have no fear,
For the publisher will issue

New editions every year. ~ Burning Leaves, November by Christopher Morley

Dust of Snow

The sun shines from a sparkling blue sky and I feel an urge to see the thick patches of snow spread over my nearest landscape of wilderness.
The snow has already started to melt when I walk into the forest and I hear an unfamiliar sound among the trees.
That is snow, that reluctantly let go of the branches and falls to the ground. Not heavy as for snow which been around for weeks.
No, it’s the dust of snow that falls as in the poem by Robert Frost.

Go to the winter woods …

Winter came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
Bill Morgan, Jr.

The cold was our pride, the snow was our beauty. It fell and fell, lacing day and night together in a milky haze, making everything quieter as it fell, so that winter seemed to partake of religion in a way no other season did, hushed, solemn.
Patricia Hampl

Go to the winter woods: listen there, look, watch, and “the dead months” will give you a subtler secret than any you have yet found in the forest.
Fiona Macleod, Where the Forest Murmurs

The door was shut, as doors should be …

The door was shut, as doors should be,
 Before you went to bed last night;
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
 And left your window silver white.

He must have waited till you slept;
 And not a single word he spoke,
But pencilled o’er the panes and crept
 Away again before you woke…
Gabriel Setoun, Jack Frost