We have now passed mid fall, thus the first frost covers the ground, clearly visible upon daybreak.
This past week, getting ready to hang up new washed laundry in the morning sun, I had to walk onto our lawn, which is now mid calf length - not that we care too much.
The air was still and cool and there was a promise of a beautiful sunny autumn day in store. Areas of grass not heated yet by the sun were covered by multitude of water crystals and beads of frozen dew - a stunning, nevertheless fleeting architecture in ice.
Nature is an endless source of magic. Just a couple of weeks ago, the sense of summer hang in the air, as spiders spun their webs among the slender green straws, covered with brilliant dew. Yet now they are long gone, and the ice in the grass announces in no uncertain terms that the countdown to winter has truly 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.