Category: Exploring

Nature Reserve of Conero

Autumn is here and winter is knocking on the door. I have been busy to tidy up in the garden and planting my garlic in the last minute. I still have the variety I got from Provence 2019, a hardy sort. This year I was not in Provence even if I sometimes remember the special atmosphere of the place of st. Maxime de Sainte Baume and the grotto of saint Marie Madeleine, and I am feeling as if I were there. I wonder if I will visit that place again.

This year I went to a pilgrimage to our Lady’s house in Loreto, an extraordinary place which has left a mark on my mind and soul, especially the presence of Our Lady in this little house of brick.

But you cannot go to a country without at least take a glimse of its nature. Close to Loreto there is a nature reserve called Conero. A lovely walk up into the mountains from the Village of Sirolo.

Visiting in January the village was sleeping. The bus was leaving us at a bus stop in the lower part of the village and with the help of a map we found our way up the hills towards the centre of the city. There is something very fascinating about tourist places out of season, everything is closed, as if abandoned, resting before people come to consume on its riches, here sun and sea. I like when it is sleeping. I feel as if the town is as if it should be, but at the same time it is strange to see a town so shifting in its life between summer and winter so dependent on tourism.

As we headed up into the mountains following a trail to get a beautiful view, we passed a sign informing us the trail was closed without further notice because of some sort of a danger. It was however unclear what the danger would consist of apart from perhaps a hint about a broken fence, so we took the chance to continue. I don’t regret it. The view was spectacular giving a view of the yellow beach contrasted by the white cliffs along the coast of the Adriatic sea, breathtaking to stand there at the edge looking down, feeling almost dizzy by the height but still immersed in the beauty of the experience.

On our way back we had just the time to go down a steep hill to follow the same shore we had watched from above. I loved the feeling of walking there on the deserted beach, the waves breaking against the smoothe stones and soft sand. Though calm, the wind was fresh after the rain the day before, giving a foretaste of spring.

I saw him coming from afar, an old lonely man with just his walking stick. A peaceful sight, him walking in the middle between the white cliffs and the calm sea. Slowly he came closer, just to pass us, and the scene was gone, so fast, and we were alone again.

I wonder sometimes how often he uses to walk there, if I would meet him again if I returned. Perhaps he has just taking up the walk again now when the sunbathing tourists are gone, him and the beach and sea left to their own thoughts.

A short visit to a national parc

On our way to look at and hopefully to buy one or two milking cows of an old landrace called rödkulla, we visited a national parc called Norra Kvill. There is a 900 years old oak there. Unfortunately we never had time to see it. However, we walked a trail around a beautiful lake quite high up in the stony hills covered with old firs and pines. And not to forget, we ate a delicious lunch out in the open, with a big stone as our table.

On a visit

On midsummer eve we, my parents, my sister, and the dogs, visted my older sister and her family’s place about three hours away in the area called the Kingdom of Crystal. It is an area known for its many glass factories, which had their peak in the end of the 19th century.

My sister lives close to an old water mill which has turned into a sort of museum. It is a lovely little place with adjacent old buildings dense with history and stories.

Since I take Toby with me when I go on visits, I am always excused to leave now and then on small walks. I found a beautiful path around the mill pond.

To take an evening walk on midsummer eve has its special atmosphere. This night was light and soft. Since we walked along the pond, the air had a faint fragrance of gale.

Into the silence

There is something special about leaving a slient life for a while and enter into a greater silence as a vacation. Perhaps it tells that the life you have chosen, or det place you have chosen, is the right one. The destination this year was Funäsfjällen, some 8 hours farther up north. Nature offered us Autumn beauty in the mountains as it is at its peak.

Svansjöån

Heading towards the mountains

Teresa my sister and her dog Lailu

To see the mountains in front of you, while still walking among the mountain birches, is hard to describe, breathing very fresh air for soul and mind.

Hamrafjället

A sleeping house

If you follow a minor dirt road not far from here, which leaves the main road to reach some farms further in, you will pass a house that is left to sleep so deep that soon I think no one will be able to kiss it awake. Lilacs grow over the wide stonehege, which also make up part of a root cellar. Old beeches strech their heavy branches over the narrow road. Beauty for all senses.

About 35 years ago there lived a joyful farmer there who managed this little farm meticulously, in a friendly manner. But old age at last got the better of him and he left this life for the eternal one. A cousin of his inherited the house, but she didn’t care for it, nor the farm, just the idea of owning a property. She has never visited it, just left it there. Nature has slowly made the garden into a small charming wilderness.

During my whole life I have watched how the seedlings that took root by the walls of the house, slowly have grown into trees, how the smaller barn with wooden roof at last collapsed and returned to the earth it was made from. Many times I have stopped there dreaming to restore it to that neat little fram it once was. But there is a fascination of the forgotten one with hidden memories. However, when I passed this time I could not resist entering through the one gate that is still hanging on its hinges.

I sat down in the grass among the old apple trees in the meadow of red and yellow primroses. Nothing disturbed the peace and quiet of the garden. I did not feel as an intruder, more of a guest taking part of a flowers feast.

I wonder if anyone will ever live in that house again, call it a home, sit where I sat admiring the flowers, but not as a guest but considering this place as part of their life. What a happy owner it would be.

New signs of Spring

Spring is truly here, the cranes have arrived, the starling in his shimmering plumage sings as he flaps his wings in excitement. He excels in imitating other birds. Often he sits on the ridge of the wood shed with a clear view of his nest and the lake. The day grows longer than the night now. Life is back. To run during sunset these days have been a true enjoyment.

As the flowers begin to bloom, the firs release their seeds. It is a beautiful mixture of sowing and blooming.

Before the trees become green the wind pollinated trees and bushes begin to bloom. I love the hazels with their golden catkins reflecting the afternoon sun.