Green-Robed Senators

Those green-robed senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir…

~ John Keats, Hyperion, Book I

When the oak is felled the whole forest echoes with it fall, but a hundred acorns are sown in silence by an unnoticed breeze.

~ Thomas Carlyle

The greatest achievement was at first and for a time a dream. The oak sleeps in the acorn, the bird waits in the egg, and in the highest vision of the soul a waking angel stirs. Dreams are the seedlings of realities.

~ James Allen

Harvest Time

Høsten er én af mine favorit årstider. Naturen bugner af frodighed. Æbler, pærer, blommer, bær og meget andet.
Hindbær og brombær er helt fantastiske med deres saft og sødme. Nu har jeg også fundet blåbær. Blåbær i Bøllemosen. Det er svært at lyve sig fra blåbær.
“Ræk tungen ud” kommanderede hytteværten strengt en gang oppe i Tafjordfjella i Norge, og alle lo, fordi den mørkeblå tunge var et uigenkaldeligt bevis.

Høsttid er forberedelse og træning til fjeldet. Det er nu, fjeldet er bedst.
Myggene har vanskelige tider, blåbærris står over alt. Ved moser og fjeldsøer findes multebær, nordmændenes livret.

To Autumn
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.”
John Keats