Returning from the mountains of central Europe, the twelve hour drive back took us through two seasons. Leaving the snowy tree tops of fairytale landscape behind, so very saturated by a winter wonderland, we crossed the threshold into early spring upon our return home.
Winter in Scandinavia is certainly on retreat, even though it might still leave us in dust of snow as it gives up its reign.
There is that unmistakable feeling in the air, so difficult to define, yet so very easy to perceive. The sun has gained in strength beyond belief, shining stronger and longer. Finding a spot in our garden, shielded from the westerly winds, I can sit outside for the first time this year, savoring its vital warmth.
Our yard is littered with signs of life and renewal, as the first spring flowers begin to bloom. I find it infinitely exhilarating as I explore the spring vegetation surrounding my home, finding stalks of crocuses and daffodils which I planted last autumn as well as established flowers that has been here for years.
As we enter the third month of the year, we experience a vernal prelude signifying an imminent change of seasons and the beginning of the best time of the year here in the cold North.
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.