I had a wonderful walk in the bog today after many days of rain and fog.
To begin with, it was silence that dominated natures sound scape.
Weakly I could hear the children play on the other side of the lake, but then there was this deep low-frequency engine sound.
That sounds like a motocross track nearby, I said.
We stopped and looked across the bog.
Then we caught sight of millions of eyes in the water between the grasses
Hmm! Well at least a hundred.
The bog was alive. Hundreds of frogs were for congress.
A form of song contest, I think 🐸🐸🐸
Choose the winding paths on winter days, and nature comes close to you.
I haven’t seen him for weeks now. The first time we met him, he lectured about wildlife in the bog.
He is always accompanied by female assistants. They carry all sorts of stuff for him: Buckets, magnifying glass, nets and fishing gear.
But people around him are having a very hard time keeping up with his enthusiastic research of animals, fish and insects.
He runs across the tree roots so fast that his feet barely touch the ground.
Where others would fall, he soars like a cloud drifting in the sky.
Often, he lies on his stomach and watch the colourful dragonflies acting with blinding speed across the lake.
The last time we saw him, he was really excited. He hovered towards us in his usual way.
Gently he handed an object forward with both hands. It was a large skin from a snake not easy to find.
Be very careful, it breaks easily, he said.
Seconds later he was gone.
Soon after we could hear him talking with his assistant.
I have met many people throughout my life, but rarely a 4-year-old little boy who impresses so much with his being.
His name is Sebastian.
Tonight a storm will hit Denmark. The water level is expected to reach new heights.
Many homes are threatened by flood waters.
The Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde ensures the museum towards the sea while the waves are already licking up the walls.
Some days ago I was lucky enough to walk in this wonderful bog on a day full of sunshine.
“Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy’s inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.”
Summer Sun, by Robert Louis Stevenson