Just the two of us this afternoon. He is always ahead of me.
A shift between cold weather and thaw. The trees are still frozen which makes the trunks shine in silver.
The “dagsmeja” has returned.
A walk in silence, thoughts and awe. We passed the lonely farm, a place of such beauty and peace.
Beauty… I try to capture her with my camera, but she skillfully evades my attempts. I try to describe her, but I’m lost for words. I cannot keep her; she visits me on her own terms. I’m grateful, I can clearly see, I’m not the master but she.
Winter is here and with it the snow. It is beautiful, especially how it lightens up the long dark evenings and renders the morning and day the crystal beauty of a fairytale.
These two last walks I have come across a flock of whooper swans resting in the snow on a normally quite wet field. Their white or gray feathers, depending on age, and light yellow beak against the white winter landscape is a sight to be seen. To my joy they have accepted my presence as I stand there looking at them. Only their very soft song is heard in the stillness of winter, followed by the rustling sound of their feathers as they rouse. I’m impressed by their toughness and grateful to be able to watch their beauty.
I haven’t brought my camera with me on these walk. Though sad from one point of view, some moments are perhaps just meant to be experienced in their simple beauty. In that sense I’m not just an onlooker, but also a partaker in the same moment as them.
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.
Sometimes you find yourself in an encounter that you did not expect. The white raindeer was not as shy as the others, and to come as close as we did was something very special.
We found the raindeers crossing the river and we followed them over the plains
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.
We took a rest, the two of us. Suddenly Toby sensed something in the air. I just wonder what it was that he caught with his sensistive nose and what he thought. In these instances I realise that we are almost in two worlds, the world of the eye and the world of the nose. But even so,we share the joy of being there together.
Wonder and silence are both I think dependent on each other. Autumn up here is devoid of many of the sounds which are typical in the area which I live. Only birds low twittering is heard and your own steps in the sprigs and bush weed. The slow pace enables you to slowly take in the beauty and to let it settle in your mind along with a sort of euphoria of the beauty.
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.
I remember this lunch, sitting on the slope of the mountain, looking at the lake far beneath and on Norwegian mountains on the other side. The dogs loved it especially Ajax, who curled up beside me.
Wonderer of Nature 