Our Indian Summer, which dominated the onset of this month, feels today only as a distant memory. Yet, it has contributed to a truly delayed colour showdown.
We are thus in the midst of a very short and a very intense turn, which I believe will last only a week at the best. It has been only days since the foliage began showing in all the earthy colours of red, copper and golden.
Below are some long overdue updates on our lovely birch. It has lost almost half of its lovely coat and whatever still adores the branches is golden. By each day, the strong westerly winds, with a force so very palpable in these parts, rob the tree of more of its leaves.
When I stand looking out of our kitchen window these days, I always have to pause, looking at the long branches as they sway in my view, like the mane on a palomino, while the air gets saturated by falling leaves, gathering on the ground in heaps, like golden coins. At all times these natural changes instigate in me a sense of security, as yet again the third season moves forward, as does the yearly circle of the birch.
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.