A garden must have apple trees to have the right atmosphere of Spring, I think. White with a tint of pink, apple flowers makes you completely surrounded by beauty, not only on the ground but also in the air.
Apple blossom
Tag: sweden
Garden time
Spring is here and with it gardening. My favourite time. Toby enjoys it in his manner, eating a bone. I enjoy my time with the first sowing in the cold frame. Sallad and celery are the first crops. Next in time are carrots, parsnip, and dill. But that will be in the field.
A misty morning
I took a morning walk together with Toby. The mist has always attracted me in its fairytale atmosphere, always a little mysterious.
Arriving to the old barn, gray and sombre, we took a pause enveloped by the saturated air, and looked at the beauty.
Then back again, the mist almost vanished by the sun.
Something in the air
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.
To the Mountains
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.
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.
Heading towards the mountains
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.
In the sun
It is always lovely to take a long evening walk after rain. The damp air made the sun beams visible. Toby found himself in the light, apparently very interested in something, but all of a sudden he was off again down in the ditch. I love these short moments of beauty which leaves a mark in my soul for a long time.
A walk across the pasture
I walked across the pasture and found the young animals on the hill where a young boy once had a dream of building his own house. A dream unfulfilled. A field still with grass and flowers, witnessing of solitude.
Dandelions
I love to walk in the evenings among the dandelions. I was told as a child that if you managed to blow away all the seeds in one try, you could wish for something. I still take up one of them once in a awhile and with some excitement blow at it. The wish? To see the beautiful seeds dancing in the air.
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.
Wonderer of Nature 