“Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.
leaving you, not really belonging to either,
not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns to a star each night and climbs-
leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.”
Sunset by Rainer Maria Rilke is a favourite poem of mine ✨✨✨
The Other World was an Advent Calendar for Television and the bridge was a magic place for good decisions. I know where it is 😊
There are some trails in the forest, but they are not consistent with my old topographic map. My compass lies on my desk top at home but I’ll find the direction using the sun.
It was one of the first walks, I tested for my self in unknown terrain. I went west towards the wonderful sea.
The sun stood low in the horizon when I finally reached my destination, and I enjoyed the silence while I ate my last supplies.
Back again on the country road I found a bus heading towards the train station. It was deeply satisfying to find my way using a map and the slope of the sun.
Subsequently, I always bring a compass with me, but now also a phone with access to Viewranger and Komoot 😊
“There is pleasure in the pathless woods. There is rapture on the lonely shore. There is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea and music in its roar. I love not man the less, but Nature more.”
~ Lord Byron
Take pleasure in finding your own paths and leave only your footprints behind.
Happy walks 😍
“Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone — …”
The Sun by Mary Oliver
One fine November evening
Én af de fineste november aftener ved Inderbredning i Isefjorden
“…The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring.”
By Elizabeth Coatsworth
Imagine if we still believed in trolls.
Stories, told around the fireplace are no more. But how did they originate in the first place?
Dark forests, bogs and misty shapes across the meadow.
Of course, it was teeming with trolls everywhere 🤤
In Denmark we have several forests named after trolls.
Forests, where crippled trees reach out their tentacles for terrified walkers.
It’s always good fun when you are safe at home😁
This is one of my old stories but very appropriate for Halloween 🎃😊
Someone had the decency to unlock the sun for an hour yesterday.
It is hard to imagine now when rain and hail are tumbling down. I was about to end my walk as the sun went down and dusk took over. I had some concerns because of the growing darkness.
Should I walk through the bog in the darkness or across the cemetery? Strange stories passed through me as I thought of the cemetery.
Once my brother took a short-cut across a cemetery late at night:
He entered our living room, pale with fear. His age in mind the experience must have been fierce. He was a teenager, and at that age it is inappropriate to be afraid. He was sure that he had stumbled upon a corpse on a small church path. My parents were sure that there was another explanation and they calmed him down so he was able to fall asleep.
Early the next morning my father went to the cemetery with my brother, and they did find a man. He wasn’t dead, but lacked a place to sleep. That finding brought my brother’s mind in a state of relief, but the cemetery was no longer an option for a short-cut.
An artist I once knew worked in a cemetery where he used an old gate house as a studio. He told me lots of stories one evening over a bottle of wine. I have never been able to forget this one in particular.
We sat by the fireplace and actually the weather outside was very similar to the weather in his story. He began the story describing how terrible tired and exhausted he was:
I’d been working late every night with the aim to get my last painting done for the opening. One night it became very late. Sometimes I get so tired that I have to pull myself together to go to bed, and I wasn’t even home yet.
So I turned off the lights and locked the door. When I went out in the storm and rain to find the car, I almost lost my breath, for it was bitterly cold.
A short stay in the wind combined with a break caused me to listen more attentively. Yes, there it was again! Help me, help !!!
It was difficult to determine the direction. The rain, the darkness and the wind created shadows where there usually were open spaces. After a while I decided to walk into the darker section of the cemetery until suddenly I saw a strange thing.
From one of the open graves prepared for the next day funeral I sensed a movement. Carefully approaching I could see two hands cling to the edge of an open grave.
At this point in his storytelling, he made a little stay and I could swear that there was a shiver running through him. He continued: I found myself in a state where my adrenaline whizz around in my body. I didn’t know whether I should turn and run, or just let myself be completely frozen with fear because I was nearly there already.
The rough terrifying voice tore me out of my trance by screaming in my ears: Heeeelp! Help me! I saw the man down in the grave. Two big scared eyes midst of all the mud, and a pair of hands which reached out like a child who wants to be lifted up.
I stood and gazed at him. It felt like hours. Then I recognised him. He was a slightly tipsy gentleman who often take his lunch on one of the benches, if not every day and in a liquid form.
Close to the grave hang a water hose. I tied the hose onto an iron pipe and handed the other end to the man in the grave.
The exhausted man was rescued from the cold grave, and after a drink and some dry clothes, he told his story about how he fell down in the grave by an accident.
But I was still considering which way to choose. I looked at the bog and the growing darkness and my thoughts went to Frodo, Sam, and Gollum when they went through the Dead Marshes on the way to Mordor.
I chose the cemetery 🤞😊
HANNA'S WALK 
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