Lady Winter took a small intermission this week. Perhaps her reign has been so intense in the past two months, that she needed an interlude to catch her breath, thus causing her to slightly loosen her icy grip.
Warm, humid air, almost alien at this time of the year, streamed for days over southern Scandinavia, prompting almost all the snow to vanish, as if it never been there at all. The bare ground - so unusual to our eyes, which are used to the white cover - exposed two simultaneous seasons.
Broken twigs and putrefied leaves and remains of flowers from our past autumn emerged through the melting ice. Silent symbols of the moving time, moments of the past locked in frozen water and preserved under snow.
The retreating snow cover however also disclosed signs of renewal as well. Fresh buds and the stalks of crocuses, pushing upwards through the temporarily soft ground, bearing witness to the imminence of spring.
The seasonal change is still far removed from our reality and winter is far from done yet. Still, this short interlude was a beautiful reminder of one unmistakable fact; despite us still being in depths of the cold season, the preparation for spring in nature has already begun.
I was born under the Tatra Mountains, to a Czech father and a Slovak mother. I grew up in Sweden and lived almost ten years in North Carolina.
More than a decade ago my line of work took me to Denmark, where I live today. My home, which I share with the man that holds my heart, lies in the northerly part of a Danish peninsula, in the proximity of endless, wide and pristine westbound sandy beaches, surrounded by the rough and untamed North Sea.
My writing is defined by reflections on my cosmopolitan past and my intriguing present. Ultimately I try to convey in words and images my personal thoughts and feelings about life itself, with all its magic, natural splendour and the beauty of simple pleasures.