Three Elements.

As Lady Winter steps into mid reign, she tightens her icy grip and throws us into deep freeze.
Yet this fourth season is simply enchanting in its raw beauty - the sights appear so fragile yet the conditions are so unyielding.

Setting out on a short walk along the pristine shores of the North Sea, we were greeted by snow-covered alabaster beach, clear baby-blue skies, frozen ochre colored surf and lazy indigo waters. The waves were hitting the coastline so very softly - a rather unusual sight in these parts.
The arctic air streams to us from Siberia in the far northeast, leaving the usually raging westerly beaches atypically docile, sheltered by the sandy dunes.

We savored the assembly of three elements - frigid air, icy cold waters and frozen earth - while the brave seagulls took to flight, completing an unforgettable, natural sight that left us almost breathless...

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.)

Untamed Waters.

Taking a walk along the pristine beaches in the proximity of my home, I am once again reminded of the incredible power of the North Sea.
Watching the surf, the crushing waves bring to mind the run of wild horses, untamed animals in all their feral beauty.
The arctic wind, the salty aerosol, the incredibly enchanting sights of colours and shapes, the roaring sound - they all are the make up of an awe invoking allure of nature.
Yet walking there, hand in hand with a lover, one can not imagine a warmer and safer place...

(All images here taken this week at the North Sea, during our short, romantic getaway.:) 

Home Is...

My whole life, I have been searching for a home. Or rather a sense to belong somewhere.
I am a child of immigrants, yet I was almost a teenager when my parents decided to pack a few of their belongings and flee in secrecy with their children to the west, with a hope to find a better life for themselves and for us.

Today, when Europe is united and moving around is easy and when the world is becoming globalized, it is difficult to imagine that once this continent was split into two ideologies and leaving the east behind meant one could never return. At least not without risking prosecution and imprisonment. A new generation has now grown up in this free Europe, learning from history books about the communism regime that once ruled their country.

Thus my life was spend as a foreigner. Being a sensitive teenager when I was uprooted and relocated, our immigration shaped my personality and my traits to a large extend. Despite my family's successful integration and adaptation, it was nevertheless an odd sensation to be sitting in social gatherings, with friends or in school, and discussing the current affairs or the state of "our country".
Or to participate in celebrations that dealt with that country's past, of the traditional or historical kind. I could never relate to these sentiments having no strong ties to my new home - no roots, no connection to past generations that lived there, no common history with it's inhabitants, nor a sense of familiarity with their traditions. Thus in time the need to feel those kind of emotions and that kind of belonging became my quest.

Yet this kind of disconnection made it also very easy for me to leave my new home and leave I did. In each new country I kept looking for the same sense of home and even though I adopted many new traditions and even in some cases felt stronger about an issue than the natives did, in time I realized that perhaps my search to truly feel completely home somewhere was futile. Particularly when I returned to the country of my origins only to realize that it lacked in providing the sense of it being a familiar home that I hope it would be, as it has changed beyond belief since I was a child.

It has been many decades since I lived with my parents, who themselves harbour the hearts of gypsies and have relocated numerous times and even moved between countries. Thus when I visit them, I visit their home, not mine.
When we stay with my father in law, we always sleep in my husband's old room. I have once asked him how he feels about being able to visit his childhood home on regular bases. He smiled and replied, slightly confused; "I come to see my father, not this house".
When we took a walk around the neighborhood and passed his old school and met his childhood friends and I inquired about similar sentiments when it comes to these encounters, my questions left him puzzled. I tried to explain that the luxury of being able to revisit and sense one's roots is to me extraordinary as it is something I can not really experience.
Yet seeing his aloofness in this matter is not something that bothers me, quiet the contrary - it disperses the importance of the issue and clouds the purpose of my lifelong quest.

We always miss that which we do not have.
My husband will not care much about being able to visit places where he grew up, as that is a natural occurrence to him and he can do it freely, almost whenever he chooses to. While for me the ability to visit my childhood home becomes crucial and almost vital, because it is not possible - to him it holds no allure because it is possible.

Simultaneously I am also realizing the relativity of things and the idea of what a home realy means is being redefined in my perception. It can be any place, even somewhere in the gutter and yet it can also be many places at once.
Eventually, if we can remove ourselves from our narrow visions and mindset and if we travel far enough, our home becomes a much larger place. Astronauts in orbit around the Earth look down upon our planet and view the beautifully coloured globe below as their home - without borders and petty conflicts between nationalities. I experienced a similar feeling when I lived in the US - I no longer viewed only one country as my home, but the whole of Europe.

Thus the idea to completely belong to that one special place is slowly becoming more obscure and I begin to realize that I will never find it, because of the life I have lived. On the contrary, I rather embrace the fact that my home is nowhere and everywhere.
Today I feel at home right here with the man that I love and his family, which welcomed me with open arms and made me feel like one of their own. I am at home in this country that has been my shelter for the past decade, yet I will also always be at home with my own family, due to the strong ties we share, no mater where in the world they are.
I realize that my life is like a large tapestry, still in the making. Each pattern speaks of one unforgettable place in time - one that was my home for a while - and foremost of the people that made it feel as such. Ultimately home is a place I carry in my heart.

"I have been very happy with my homes, but homes really are no more than the people who live in them."
Nancy Reagan

(All images in this post taken in our home and in and around the home of my father in law.)

The Icelandic Stallion.

When I was a young girl, riding was my passion. I can not really adequately describe the sensation, but I was the happiest when I was on a horseback.
This was however a life time ago and the last time I sat on a horse was almost twenty years back, riding towards the sunset on a secluded beach in Puerto Rico.

In life though, we never know who meet and what those encounters can lead to and as luck have it, one of my husbands acquaintances, a jovial and kind woman, has a passion for horses. And thus once again, with her help and guidance, my own passion for riding has been rekindled.

Sitting on horseback recently for the first time after a couple of decades, I relived the happiness I once felt as a young girl. The sensation and "know-how" returned to me easily and the encounter left me wanting more. In difference from my past experiences, when I rode large stallions, this time I rode an Icelandic horse. Pony like in size, however not a pony, these horses are  known for having additional gaits, among others a very distinguished riding stride called tölt, which is a mix between a walk and a trot. They are small, yet strong and resilient, with a placid temper.

Riding through a beautiful natural scenery, in great company, my world was once again set momentarily right, as yet another set of unforgettable moments were added to my recollection.

Sea Of Sunshine.

If I had to define the month of May here in Scandinavia with only one word, it would be raps. That is the Danish word for rapeseed. During mid-spring, their blossoms create oceans of yellow, covering the landscape, contrasting in perfect harmony with the blue of the sky and the green of the forests and fields.

Whenever I have the privilege to take walks in nature when these fields are in bloom, the experience is incredibly revitalizing. The breeze makes the long stalks sway, resembling rippled surface on a sea of sunshine. The golden colour has such a soothing effect on ones well being, as it signifies life and warmth. Additionally, rapebloom carries a deep sweet scent, and the perfumed air completes the experience, satisfying all the senses.
Add a clear, spring sunny day to the mix and the result is the beauty of a natural splendour and a joy of a simple pleasure.

(All images taken with my iPhone in the proximity of my home)

Festival Of Light.

Once again, our evening sky becomes lit up as a silver hue settles across the heavens upon sunset. We commence the time of white nights here in the cold North and the countdown to midnight sun has begun, even though my position is in the southern most Scandinavia, where the midnight sun is used as a symbolical term only.

Still, our day has gained almost nine hours since winter solstice and the time of dusk is now stretched to comprise one hour short of midnight and is only growing. In a month the night will truly be white, or light as we say here.

I love this time of the year and it is now that my heart experiences a bittersweet longing for the views I once had at my disposal at the white house on the hill. Every day, with the onset in May, offered spectacular sunset skies and an endless twilight horizon. Today all I see are treetops and red roofs.
However, that is life - we gain some and we loose some. I have gained on so many other levels, that this is sacrifice I gladly take.

On our recent drive home from one of the Danish islands, after visiting my husbands family, we experience beautiful views of a late sunset as it unraveled over the sea, before we embarked on a ferry to take us home. Later we watched the silver skies accompany us home all the way through to the other side of midnight.
It made me realize that even though I do not get to see the stunning views on regular bases, the few times I get the privilege to see them makes the experience even more precious and enchanting.

Eocene Stone.

My Amber

Ever since I was a little girl, I found amber to be a fascinating stone. Admiring the jewelry worn by my mother and grandmother, I was spellbound by the golden colour and the imperfect texture, with all its small inclusions and trapped life forms of the Eocene period. It reminded me of a time capsule, as it preserved moments of the past forever.

Today I too have in my possession purchased amber jewelry, yet it has been my wish ever since Scandinavia became my home, to find raw amber on the beach.
I never did.

Me And My Find

Having recently moved to the westbound shores of the wild North Sea, I finally got my childhood wish granted. As we took a stroll along the surf on Christmas day, after a night of strong winds, glancing casually down, I suddenly spotted a large stone below my feet. After having picked up so many brown coloured stones before, only to end up in disappointment, I knew immediately this was different - I knew I have found my very own amber.

I keep it in my jewelry box and cannot help but feel it between my fingers almost every day. It is light as a feather, its surface is rough and uneven and when I hold it against light, it sparkles like fire. Over forty millions years old, it is the oldest item I will ever touch. A product of natural wonders, in my perception it reinforces the relativity of time and the incredible value of the short time we are given.

My Amber, found on the shores of the North Sea on Christmas Day 2011

"Dies Natalis Solis Invicti".

December in Scandinavia is defined by an endless and constant darkness. We only get six hours of daylight, which is fragile and resembles twilight at the very best, instigating perpetual tiredness and signs of depression.
Yet, this period of - what feels as - eternal dusk, beckons us to light multitude of candles through out our homes, adding to the enchantment of the Holidays, complementing the artificial illumination of the streets and the stores.

Today, as we cross the threshold of light once again, the longest night settles upon us, creating a sweet contradiction.

While the winter solstice ushers us into the fourth season, defined by cold and darkness, it also brings with it that slight glimpse of hope. The Romans called this day Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, meaning the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun.
From now on, the fragile daylight will grow stronger by each day. However minute that addition of light will be to begin with, it will be there nevertheless. Slowly gaining in intensity until it grows strong enough to illuminate our surroundings, comes the vernal equinox.

However, until that time comes, we will relish in the subtle light of candles, which create that enchanting atmosphere, so significant of the winter season.

Sunsets Redifined.

I no longer get the privilege to watch stunning sunsets out of the westbound windows at the white house on the hill, those that made me marvel and hold my breath.
Our current house is positioned in the suburbs of a very small town, on a straight plain lined by a sandy coastline and our westerly views are obstructed by trees and other buildings.

Still, as the skies turn ever so dark, while we slowly yet steadily move into the half a year of twilight, my daily extended drive from work makes up for those departed views.
Currently, there is that narrow margin of time, which will only last a couple of weeks at the best, enabling me to watch the sun as it meets the horizon, while I am on my way home.

Thus on a few occasions recently, I got the privilege to witness stunning sunsets, light-shows of no equal, unraveling just above the natural settings that I call home today. Watching the evening sky from a low land, the experience became an absolutely novel one, while the clouds turned the heavens into a vaulted ceiling of shadows and light, at times as if set on fire.

Savoring the visual magic of these precious moments, I eternalized this natural wonder with my camera lens, while the sunsets of my past became redefined...