In Ivory.

There is nothing more enchanting than the first snow.
December snow is the most alluring precipitation, creating christmas card like atmosphere, adding to the the spirit of the Holidays.

We have been under a heavy snow blanket for over a week, as the first few snowstorms of the year swept over the country - the latest one last night - leaving us with stunning views of a winter wonderland. Yesterday the weather gods granted us a short break, with clear skies and a fragile sunshine, beckoning us to set out on a short drive through the white landscape.
The soft winter sun momentarily drenched nature in a platinum light, making the snow sparkle and the contrast between the alabaster white fields and the azure blue December sky so very obvious.

The ivory views passing the cars window clearly reinforced the fact that we have stepped into the third season and the reign of Lady Winter has truly commenced.

(All images in this post are taken with my iPhone through the windows of our car.)

Crayola Sky.

Late fall equals perpetual twilight in Scandinavia.
Our days have lost about ten hours since the summer solstice and this can certainly be perceived.

Yet as always, even the darkness brings moments of absolute enchantment.
If the weather conditions are right, over the course of the next couple of months, I will be once again granted the privilege to watch stunning sunrises as I set out on my daily commute.

Below is a selection of crayola skies - alluring works of art painted by an unseen artist upon dawn, as they passed my windows in recent mornings, dispersing momentarily the feel of everlasting dusk.

October Sky.

As we reach mid-fall, the sun is visibly vanishing, rising later and setting earlier by each passing day. However, the low lying golden disc offers once again stunning views of a dramatic sky, which becomes so apparent during my daily commute. It is a precious farewell gift from nature, like a final wonder, while we are slowly submerged into an early twilight.

Thus I can not help but marvel at the beauty that accompanies me on the road currently. In fact, I am at times touched deeply by these stunning vistas, which come across almost as if being biblical or divine, when the celestial sphere turns into breathtaking painting full of colours and light.
I try to relish in these sights as much as I can, knowing that very soon, for months to come, my drive home will be conducted under a thick blanket of darkness...

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
Rabindranath Tagore

The Green Lightning.

The very first car that I drove as my own was a bright red, 77 Ford Thunderbird. I have just moved to North Carolina and barely had my license for a year, when I got the privilege to borrow this large wagon for my very own use. I was initially terrified at the mere prospect of sitting behind its wheel, but very quickly grew to love this old American legend.

After it was retired to my friends driveway, I bought my very first own car. It was a red Nissan Sentra with a few years on its back. Today I still have the old North Carolina license plate, which until very recently hang on the wall in my basement and now is tucked away somewhere in a box in storage. It stated "First In Flight" and the last sticker on it was from 99, the year I moved back to Europe.

When I relocated to Denmark, I bought my very first new car. A Toyota Yaris. I can still recall the incredible excitement when I drove it out of the car dealership and onto the road, as it was a beginning to a new life.

A car symbolizes so much and is such an important part of our life. My father can recall all the cars he has ever owned and the memories evoke a plethora of sentiments, as he travels in his mind all the way back to the early sixties and lists them one by one. They all have a place in his heart and all a story or two to tell.

Indeed, a car is often a necessity, at times a luxury but ultimately a possession that we bond with in an uncanny way as it is in our life for extended period of time. Over the years my green Toyota became my friend and recently it even received a nickname; The Green Lightning, as its tiny engine has been pushed to the limit in the past many months, while traveling at high speeds for hundred of miles each day, through any kind of weather.

It has served me well, bringing me safely to many destinations, whether in Denmark or abroad. It has been running smoothly, never letting me down, sparing me major repairs and trips to the mechanic. It has seen me through thick and thin, watched many passengers seated next to me, anything from family members to old friends, fleeting acquaintances, colleagues and boyfriends. It has help me move and transport all my possessions on numerous occasions and today it simply carries on its back more than a decade of my personal history.

Thus it was with a heavy heart that I was recently forced to realize that it's time with me has been concluded.
I had to face the fact that it's technology was outdated, it's power weakened and the heavy commute has begun to leave it's mark. Although fuel efficient at low speeds, it is unbelievably uneconomical at high speeds and it has been draining my wallet and my energy for the past eight months.

I never realized that it would be so difficult to part with a car.
Driving it over to the car dealer this past weekend, the exchange was made and we were presented with a shinning new Polo with state of the art technology and modern look. Gazing at my old friend for the last time, I felt a wave of grief enveloping me and struggled to hold back the tears that filled my eyes all of a sudden. Just like when I left my white house on the hill, there were mixed emotions of happiness over something novel and exciting, but also sadness over saying farewell to something very dear, a presence that has been vital and beneficial in my life for so long.

As I contemplated the wish and hope that after a quick make over it might still serve very well to someone new, I was handed the keys to my new car. Gazing at its shiny hood, I could not help but feel that it was smiling at me.
Thus I knew this was the beginning of a new, beautiful friendship.

Winter Pre-Views.

Some of you might recall my very long commute to the university. I drive a total of one hundred and eighty miles each day.

It is amazing how we humans adapt.

If someone asked me a year ago if I would mind spending each day three hours in a car in order to get to and from work, I would have laughed in their face and said "no way!".
And yet here I am today, doing exactly that which at one time seemed unthinkable to me.

I have mixed feelings about this crazy commute. When it pours down with strong winds, when it is dark and the traffic is heavy, the drive is a terrible ordeal. I arrive at my destination exhausted, my body tense and my mood somber.
And yet, there are times, when the complete opposite takes place, such as this week.

As the days grow longer, I am currently gifted with absolutely stunning views that pass my car windows almost every day.
Setting out, I can watch breathtaking sunrises, which bathe the low lying landscape in pastel nuances of a winter dawn. With only a touch of frost, nature carries a gentle hue of white and yet the arctic air which has swept over the country holds a promise of heavy snowfall.

Turning into the second half of its reign, the Ice Lady is determined to tighten her grip. Until snowstorms prevent me from driving all together, I enjoy the unblemished beauty of an early morning drive - my daily simple pleasure and a true natural wonder.

(All images taken with my old Nikon Coolpix during a recent drive to work)

'Darkness Is My Light'.

This somewhat ominous title is actually a small excerpt from the lyrics to a song made by the band Imagination, called "Hold Me In Your Arms". For those of you who might be interested, there is a clip in the end of this post.

I own their album Closer, purchased as a tape almost twenty five years ago and it is right now on constant reply in my car, keeping me company on my very long drive home each day - after dark.

I love this album and I love this song in particular.
I love it's soulful harmonies and the eighties sound and I enjoy endlessly the memories as they come streaming back, while I recollect my youth to the gentle beats and the so very catching chorus.

Additionally, the mentioned words seem to sum up the period of the year we have just entered in a truly eloquent way.
November, together with December, account for the darkest month here in the cold North. This is the onset of time when twilight rules our days and when indeed, "darkness is our light".

I have mixed feelings about the increasing lack of light. Driving home after the onset of darkness makes for a very unpleasant ride, particularly during heavy rain storms when all I can see through the windshield is a distorted play of lights, resembling a watercolor painting.

Yet the twilight holds also a certain allure, as it instigates a sense of rest. It indicates that everything in nature is now slowly winding down and a period of stillness is ahead. Thus it beckons us to do the same - to retreat to our homes and enjoy the subtle lights of candles and the company of our loved ones.

As I have grown older, I have found novel joy in each season. The darkness of November has truly too its function, if only to reinforce our joy in the month of June, the month of light, balancing out our reality and putting everything into perspective.

(All images in this post are taken on our recent trip across the Danish Islands and in our home.)

Carefree Highway.

My former drive to work was wonderful due to two reasons; it took me by the ocean side and it was short. Upon my recent relocation, neither of the above facts remained.

I love my work endlessly and as I am not keen on introducing too many changes into my life, I decided to keep my old employment, at least initially. Thus every day, my little car takes me on a round-trip that comprises a total of some two-hundred miles and about three hours commuting. A far cry from those fifteen minutes it took me once to drive to work.

However, being an undying optimist, I am slowly adapting to my new routine of long distance driving and I actually enjoy it. Of course, there are some setbacks.
I no longer get to see the sea on every day bases, I cry every day I have to fill up the tank as I see literally money being washed down the drain. I encounter many obnoxious, ignorant drivers and I have realized that driving in heavy rain gives me the creeps. The worst of them all is nevertheless by no means the fact that I waste three hours of my day on being confided inside a car.

With all that said though, the highway that I travel on takes me through some stunning scenery and when the sun shines and the traffic is light, the ride is very pleasant.
I have only a tape deck in the car, thus for a few hours each day I revert to my teenage years as I go through a stack of old tapes, some of them made several decades ago. I keep them stashed on the backseat and each time I sit behind the wheel, I enjoy choosing a new trip through my musical past.

The ride has by now become monotone of course. Gone is the excitement of the initial days, when I sat tensed in the seat, trying to concentrate on the traffic around me, feeling so out of place on a highway early in the morning.  Now-days I recognize each turn and each exit, I know all the speed limits, the places of congestion and the traffic signs. Nevertheless, my little car almost never drove faster than 35mph for a span of ten years. Thus when I accelerate to speeds that I did not think the little Toyota was capable of, I still feel that tingling of excitement in the pit of my stomach, while the speakers convey my favourite harmonies and beats.

I do love the drive home particularly. Due to my odd working hours, I drive past the rush hour and at times the highway is empty and carefree, almost like a wide runaway for my personal use. I sip my new brewed coffee, while I let my mind wonder, digesting the events of the day, winding down slowly, while beautiful natural images pass by the windows. I watch the sun set on my left and I know that by each passing mile I am getting closer to home - and to the loving arms of my man.

Unfortunately, I know that in a couple of months, this drive will be of a quiet different kind. As we reach the end of autumn and the days will grow darker and grey, when snow and rain will be my companions and only the headlights or tail lights of passing cars my beacons, I will recollect with an occasional longing those fifteen minutes it once took me to get home.

Still, there is one thought that will keep me warm and safe through my long drive - the thought of a lit house with warmth and love inside, the one waiting for me at the destination. Indeed, once it took me only a fraction of the time to come home, but I came home to a dark and empty place, devoid of happiness and affection.

I would not go back to that ever again and would drive a thousand miles if I had to. To get back home.

(Note: All images in this post and below are taken during my beautiful drive home.)