daily delight - february 14

swan footprints in the snow on the frozen lake. we haven't been able to walk out on the lake or skate in 6-7 years, but finally, it's been well below zero for at least 10 days and we were able to play down at the lake all weekend. the swans are a little sad there's no open water and these footprints were made with plaintive whining the whole way. it's apparently hard to take off from solid ice and not water. 

many animals are clearly appreciating the shortcut the ice represents and there were loads of animal tracks in the pristine white snow. i loved seeing them and leaving tracks of my own. this picture was so lovely, i accidentally posted it on my instagram stories twice. that was due to a connection glitch where it told me it hadn't uploaded, but it clearly had, but it was also so pretty, it was worth two shares.

we worked on clearing a spot of too much growth while we had the ice to stand on and decided to make a day of it - grilling sausages, drinking coffee and warming up some cider while we had a bonfire. it was the kind of weekend that filled me up with energy and happiness and fresh air to be able to face another week of working from home and endless teams meetings. it really was delightful. 

daily delight - february 13

the sun was shining brightly, and it was -12°C, but there was no wind and so it was actually beautiful outside. while husband and karo headed down to the lake with a drill to check the ice. it was 10-12cm, so safe to be out on it. i stayed at the house and made some yummy homemade sausage rolls that we could eat as a snack. we planned to ice skate, but the surface of the lake is pretty bumpy and covered in snow, so instead, we just hung out and took a really lovely walk. and we drank coffee and ate the sausage rolls and the last of yesterday's birthday brownies. and we soaked up vitamin D and it was generally a really beautiful, delightful, practically perfect day.

take a walk with me

i made these audio pieces as a christmas present for my brother-in-law. i wanted high production values, but decided in the end only to edit out bits and pieces and not add any music, so it was a more authentic version of my walk. in these times, we can't travel and so we have to make the most of our own surroundings. though i have uploaded them as videos, they are really just audio. if you'd like to take a walk with me down to our lake, have a listen. 
 

a magical secret chair

yesterday, i took a walk down around the lake after work. i needed to get outside and get some fresh air, so i donned my rubber boots and headed down there. i walked closer to the lake than usual, thinking that the mama swan was on a nest somewhere along the edge. i wanted to find her and see the nest. the papa swan was out on the lake and didn't flee as usual when he saw me. he actually seemed a bit aggressive, so maybe the nest was on our side of the lake and i was looking in the wrong spot. but, in looking, i happened upon an amazing handmade lounge chair. it was made of sticks and held together by fishing line. it looked like it had been there for a few years, so it wasn't newly constructed. i didn't try sitting in it, i just photographed it. but i might want to go out there and try it out. i wasn't sure it was strong enough to hold me anymore, but i will try it this weekend. i rather want to sit there and look out on the lake. it was quite idyllic and in such a peaceful spot. it felt a bit like happening upon a secret magic haven. if it's nice this weekend, i want to go down and feel the magic.

the view from here

the last of our long spring holiday weekends is winding down. we got our fair share of most welcome sunshine. after a nice dinner (another of those south dakota beef roasts that have strangely been available in our local grocery store), husband and i took a walk down to the lake. the wind, which had been blowing quite intensely all day had all but died down and we had a quiet moment on what's left of the fallen tree (husband has been hard at work turning it into firewood). birdsong and the smell of verdant summer were all around us as we gazed at the peaceful lake. it was a good way to end the day and the weekend. 

i've had need for peaceful moments of late...needless strife and conflict with my sister has zapped my energy. why are we hardest on those we love the most? i have been reminded that words are sharper weapons than actual physical blows and healing from unwisely chosen words takes longer than a recovering from a physical injury. i wonder at times if you ever really get over the most hurtful accusations? especially if they are bewildering and incomprehensible. i've also realized that losing a parent makes you feel and behave in strange ways that make you unrecognizable, perhaps even to yourself. grief is a journey.

but working outdoors in the garden, or indoors on the new kitchen, or even cleaning, tidying and doing laundry - things where you see the tangible results of what you do - really does help. it eases the mind and soothes the wounded spirit. and so does a moment by the lake, breathing the quiet, letting it penetrate your very pores. 

it will eventually be ok in the end. and if it's not ok, it's not the end. 

* * *

this made me laugh.

"i went paleo and now i hate everything."

* * *

check out the amazing 1917 chalkboards they found under some other chalkboards in oklahoma city.

magical place, magical light

we have this magical little forest at the end of our lake. i've actually told you about it before. it's a bit swampy and you've got to wear your wellies, but it's well worth walking down when you need to clear a bit of writer's block and calm your over-active mind. and with the sun at its setting angle on the horizon - it was better and more relaxing than a glass of wine.* the trees are close and it's a rather dramatic place. but also quiet and primordial and deep and waiting. almost breathing around you. and you can't help but feel that if you just held still enough, you would be witness to something magical.

*i bet you never thought you'd hear me say that. 

come skate with me!

i just had to take you along for a little skate on our lake!  happy monday, one and all!

the swans have it

reflections on the lake

last evening - reflections on the lake

why is that having a view is so important to us as humans?  there was a time, not all that long ago, when it wasn't. here in denmark, the older houses along the harsh west coast have small windows and you can see that people weren't concerned about seeing the sea. they were more concerned about keeping out the wind and the sand. in the laura ingalls wilder books, there's only one passage about how pa got a real glass window for one of the houses on the prairie and it was a tiny one. there was a time when people living along canals and rivers did their best not to see all that dirty water and waste flowing by and those living closest to it were the poorest. today, the most expensive properties brag about their view and their proximity to water. when did our view on having a view change? is it the fault of creative real estate agents? or do we as humans crave the horizon as our horizons have expanded?

we've noticed since moving out to the countryside that our neighbors who have lived here for 40 years have what to us is a curious lack of a seating area outside. if the weather is good enough (and sometimes even if it isn't), we eat outdoors. our neighbor is likely to be mowing his extensive lawn during those early evening hours when we're trying to enjoy a meal outside. but we want him to sell us his barn and a bit of land at the back of it eventually, so we don't complain. we've realized it's just a different view on what activities happen outdoors. to our neighbors, long-time farmers, outdoors is where you work and in the house is where you relax. we work indoors all day and so we want to go outdoors to relax.

we move our table all around the lawn, taking advantage of spots of sunshine (or shade) and wind directions (if we're grilling). and tho' the view of our lake isn't from the table in the garden, it's important to us that it's there. we are drawn to it and seek it out, most often in the evening, during the golden hour when the sun is sinking in the sky. an amble down to the end of the pasture to spend a few moments gazing at the lake in the quiet of the evening makes us feel restful and relaxed. the view is important to our mental well-being. 

i think as our work has taken us farther from nature, we naturally are drawn to it in other ways, so we have larger windows on our homes and we move many domestic activities - like eating - outdoors when weather permits. i surely hope it's not just the manipulation of conniving real estate agents.

parenting on thin ice

i am ever in awe of my husband's abilities as a parent. and he makes it look absolutely effortless. spontaneous, imaginative, creative, engaged.

tho' he did give her FOUR chocolate sandwiches in her lunch last friday. he says every child should experience that once in awhile. she thought it was brilliant.

light, lake, lilypads

we celebrate midsummer here in denmark on june 23 - sankt hans aften - i'm not sure why we don't celebrate on the actual solstice, but hey, i'm up for any opportunity to celebrate the light. and celebrate we did this evening. our neighbors had saved loads of sticks and old hay and had a most spectacular bonfire, which is a traditional element of sankt hans. traditionally, a witch is burned on the fire, but we skipped that bit (and i kept myself at a safe distance, just to be sure no one gave me a little push).

afterwards, we headed down for a little sail on our lake. this time, we found pink waterlilies. and although i just shared waterlilies yesterday, i had to share them again. making hay while the sun shines, as it were. or lilypads while it's light, perhaps?

thank you all for sharing the places where you get away from the world on my previous water lily post. i love how many of us are drawn to water and nature in general. having grown up on the prairie, i'm also drawn to wide-open spaces where i can see forever. and speaking of that, i'll be headed there on saturday! i'm looking forward to watching a good thunderstorm or two come rolling over the prairie. and of course, to seeing my family. that bit goes without saying. but i'll admit i'm starting to wish they'd just come here and hang out with us and the lilypads.

waterlilies as coping mechanism

in the midst of all of the ratrace of life - running the child to school, picking her up, going to work, running to meetings, learning resisting how things are done in a new company, a new town, a new house, finding a vet for the horse's vaccinations, keeping the horse in carrots and horse treats (who knew they had to have treats?), trying to convince the cat to venture outside, weeding the garden, hoping the elderflowers hurry up before we leave, using up what's in the refrigerator, packing, last minute sewing, running to the post office - i am very happy to have moments of serenity on our new property. the house may be falling down, but the location itself is absolute heaven. who wouldn't feel calm and peaceful with waterlilies like these?

where do you go to find a bit of shelter from the cruel world?

my thirty-thirteenth summer solstice

summer solstice sunset - 10:13 p.m.

i am decidedly not a religious person, tho' i'm fascinated by various aspects of various religions. if i were to be religious, i'd definitely worship the sun in some form. magpie girl suggested making a list of 8 ways to worship the sun, so i thought i'd go with that (it seems 8 things is a regular thing on her blog and not especially of significance to the solstice) on this, my thirty-thirteenth summer solstice.

1. create something for someone else.
2. ride a horse.
3. eat watermelon for dinner.
4. photograph the sunset.
5. breathe in the scent of fresh-mown hay.
6. bond with the child.
7. take a solitary walk.
8. do cartwheels across the lawn in the cool evening air.

i find that i could go on (and on and on, especially about the walk i took in the still, golden summer light down to our lake), but i will stop with 8. i hope you've fully utilized your summer solstice. if not, get out there and do it now!