books and tea by candlelight

I’m definitely a a snow baby — i was born in June but i’ve always preferred winter over summer, not that both don’t have their good and bad sides. Well its officially the first of December — the first advent has started and i enjoyed my day by sipping piping hot tea and flicking through and old book handed down to me called ” Dronningens Læge.” Its an old book with old newspaper cutouts from articles about the real story behind the book.  This little spine of pages smells like the magic of the forest and whisper of the wind, and i can’t wait till i have the time to sit down and really focus on the words and the story.
Its on my to read list and its pretty high up there so when i finish “Buffalo Girls” and “Vorherres rævefælde” this might be my next stop on the literary path. However its a matter of how i feel when i finish a book that determines my next step. If i have a book hang over — all betters are off and shit hits the fan. But for now i’ll pretend i’ll read it soon because its a warming thought.

Now, back to the candlelight and hot tea.
A goodnight, i bid thee!

tea

the secret kept by mountains

“We dont see things as they are, we see them as we are,” and its so true. It was thanksgiving last week and instead of sitting at a table eating semi-dry turkey we packed up our car and drove due North — to the mountains. Some of you may have seen an update on my insta-story. I’m not really one for holidays apart from Christmas and i’m terrible with dates, to me it was just another day. The further north we went the more the winter caved in on us like a light fog. The roads started to bristle with ice and the trees sprinkled flakes as we drove. Winter is my favourite time of year; i love warm sweaters, knitted blankets, cuddling with Basil on the sofa and any excuse to wear my big snow boots — i’ll take it!

It was around lunch time so it had already started to get dark but the lighting was perfect for photography even the evening was on pointe; warm and softening — my favourite light to work with but unfortunately i don’t get out as much as i’d like to take pictures. I’m glad that i did, my excitement for photographic art was renewed and working with my camera was rewarding.
In short it was a perfect day with perfect company.

Sometimes we need small things to remind us why we work so hard everyday, why we do what we need to so we can do the things that make us happy and make every day a little more special. Photographing my drifting and travels is a huge part of my life (though i sometimes try to deny it when i get frustrated), but sadly sometimes i neglect it because its hard to afford consistent upgrading of equipment and i also work too much. At least too much to go out and take pictures as much as i’d like.

We drove the Kangamangus highway. We were told it was beautiful in the fall, but no — its at its most beautiful in the winter. No body else was up there and miles of forest/mountain road a head of us. We stopped wherever we wanted and Basil was able to explore without disturbance.

Deep in the forest of the mountains was a secret kept only by mountains and trolls… a quiet lake lined in trees and hidden under a thick sheet of ice — completely forgotten as all the tourists and geese had travelled to warmer states. There it was in the winter sun with three playing ducks bathing in the only pool of water left unfrozen. Animals nickered, scratched, squeaked and scarpered. And that warm light i told you about started to die.

the secret kept by mountains

a humdrum day

Just a humdrum day, in the drifters apartment today. Its raining outside and i’m just sitting down to some ikea food because thats about as close to Danish food as i can get here. Sadly. At least i HAVE that though otherwise i’d be weeping into my pillow every night in sorrow and loss.

a humdrum day
Oh and i have my new cactus, Abenaki,  for company — the third of my little group of pricks.

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fear not the forest troll


“It is in the forest that we find we can live amongst the trolls and that it is modern life that we should fear.”

I grew up respecting the forests — i knew they could be dangerous. Children go missing in the forest. Bears. Wolves. Scary things can appear as if from nowhere and it is in the silence where only your fear will breathe.
But now that i live in an apartment, not necessarily far from the countryside but far from the freedom that it provides — i realise that it is not the troll i fear anymore. Its the modern world, built up cities & technology.. a fear of never knowing whether to return to Scandinavia (even though i miss it everyday). Thankfully i don’t live online and i don’t consider my mobile an extra limb, nevertheless i’m still out of tune. I’ve never been a city kid — i was born in Southern Denmark out by the fields and the cold, in the summer no less but i’m a snow baby at heart. A wild child that wandered out from the warm moss of the forest and i hope soon to be back where im strongest; In the middle of nowhere where it’s quiet, and beautiful and the old world still lives.

Its a weird day today — i’m not sure where i want to be, where i need to go or what to do. I’ve lived so many places and that makes it difficult to decide where to go from here.

For now, i will go to Ikea and get my Scandi fix of familiar foods and other goodies.

trolls
Hej du. 

a lousy technical artist

I’m a lousy technical artist, truly. Two out of five of my paintings are visually appealing. I break all the rules, whatever rules there are, when it comes to art. My paintings and sketches aren’t always good and sometimes my subjects are ugly. I can mix colours to get the right results but i’m not always satisfied with my pieces when i’m finished, but thats me in a nut shell. Im a perfectionist which is one of the reasons it takes a long time for products to go up on my etsy, for photographs to be printed — they have to be spot on or they’ll sit in a box/hard drive for the rest of my life.
I stopped drawing a few years ago — which was a shame because i’m actually pretty good at sketching but i’m not so skilled when it comes to the finer details (i’ve started really trying to improve this). However, i always loved painting even if my paintings never satisfied me so i’ve started experimenting again — how good it is for the spirit to do something for no one but yourself ! I highly recommend it.
Today i spent my day painting, sketching and drawing with ink my new favourite medium — indian ink. I was supposed to be working on my novel but i didn’t. Although i also finished a knitted sweater today so i have atleast been productive.
Practice makes perfect. I’m glad i’ve started revisiting old hobbies and interests because i’ve found it makes me a happier person but still a little bit of an asshole.

a lousy technical artist

a visitor of yarn-y proportions

In the mornings i work at a lovely horse farm down the road, with lovely friendly people and super sweet horses. I’ve always said i could never work at a desk or behind a screen because it would drive me crazy; i need to work with my hands and my body (by that i mean acting and no prostitution just to clarify). So farm work is right up my alley — plus i love everything horse/animal related. So as im going about my daily business i get a visitor of yarn-y proportions sneaking into my stall.

a visitor of yarn-y proportions

He is the sweetest most affection sheep i have ever met in my life! And now i obviously need one in my life. I’ve worked a lot of farms and every single one has had sheep, but never-nibbling-your-shirt-&-kitty-head-butting sheep that desperately wanted affection. My heart……


For a long time i’ve wanted my own land with my own animals — unfortunately for me and my wallet the list is continuously getting longer. So next to the two longhorns, several cats, dogs and horses i now need a sheep or two.

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Theres nothing quite like living with animals in the world — they’re so upfront and honest; not to mention full of personality. Im grateful i get to spend so much of my time with them because i relate more to them than people. The unspoken respect and knowing. Yes, i’m a very happy with my mucky boots and dirty jeans if it means i get to horse around. And come on, how cute is he ? His wool was super soft too and i was thinking if i had my own sheep i’d get to spin my own yarn. But that is another dream for another day.

a lighthouse and the mountain

Four days from Halloween, and the weather is perfect. The sky is blue and clear, the wind is brisk and there is a longed-for chil — finally. I might regret that last statement when theres 10 feet of snow outside and i can’t feel my feet, but for now im happy that summer is finally at an end. Its been dragging this year and i’m desperate to start wearing comfy snow boots and some wooly coats. Also — christmas?!

Today we spent our Saturday exploring Mount Agamenticus with Basil. We were hoping to see some form of wildlife but that idea was busted when a huge family decided to give their 30 kids a set of whistles as party favours. Fantastic parenting and consideration for others. Everyone on the mountain that wasn’t invited to said party had a pretty lousy experience. The noise decimated all hope of wildlife, and in general ruined the ambience of such a pretty place.

mountain
Thankfully i still managed to get a couple of shots without the millions of screaming children in the trees and on the cliff sides. Its not the tallest mountain — and it doesn’t have to be (its elevation is only 692′) . Its a beautiful reservation and habitat for wildlife — something our world is beginning to lack i might add. I worked on a few boats my first few years living in New England, where i’d seen the small mountain on the horizon when we were returning to Portsmouth. They say its a “noted landmark for sailors,” which it was to me before it ever became known as “Mount Agamenticus.” So it was special to finally get up there and see it from the other side. Mountain to the sea and vice versa.

lighthouse and the mountain

After we were good and tuckered out from the mountain we took a leisurely drive and ended up at the Nubble Lighthouse. I personally would love to live like this — being the antisocial hermit that i am. Its a beautiful little island separated from the mainland by a watery grave. Your own little world just outside of everyone else’s — i mean what could be more perfect?
Signalling ships + piece and quiet = one happy camper.

Bet its cold as balls in the winter mind you.

the lighthouse

a witch house

A witch house, thats right. A witch house still stands in the heart of Salem, Mass. Ok thats not entirely that surprising. However, this house was actually inhabited till the late 1940’s — which is kinda baffling considering everything that happened there. It may just be me who is overly superstitious but just the thought of ghosty puritan goings on in my house would freak the hell outta me. So, it really does impress me that it was inhabited for so long after the witch hunts & hearings; the museum that it is now was incredible. Its a little piece of history locked into the heart of a growing city.

I wont lie and tell you Salem was everything i hoped for — its wasn’t. As the historically inclined & imaginative soul that i am i had imagined dirt roads, rotting gallows and and clinking ships bells. That wasn’t the case mind you it in parts it wasn’t too far off. The Friendship of Salem calls the Sail Loft, across from the customs house on the harbour, its home. I haven’t seen her in person with her masts and spars up but i’ve seen/touched the rest. So, all in all i’m satisfied and my heart bleeds, not because of the congenital heart defect i was born with but for all those poor lost souls who were mercilessly hung on pure superstition and whispers.

a witch house

where i lay my hat

It’s Friday the 20th of October and it 23:29 in the evening, we just finished watching ” The Last Of The Mohicans” with method actor Daniel Day Lewis — and sometimes something as simple as a beautiful soundtrack can make you ponder and leave you wandering in the forest of your mind for answers you know don’t rustle in those trees.

Home is a hard word — or rather a complicated one. I battle with it often trying to determine where i feel “at home.” If i’ve ever felt at home. Every place has it’s own drawbacks — and if theres anything i’m good at its finding the drawbacks. I’ve lived a long life for a 25 year old; i’ve lived many lives already and i’m far from done. Any expat will tell you that travelling over a long period of time will change you in ways you can’t comprehend. I’m not talking vacation or holidays — i’m talking living a life of travel, of moving from place to place and becoming a part of a new life. A self-sort gift as well as a curse as hard as they come. I’ve never much cared what happened to my life or where it ended up — i usually go with the flow of living and see where the wind blows me, still do. Sure there are things i want to do and accomplish, which i work on little by little every day but theres no place out there that i feel “yeah — thats home and thats where i’ll return to when i’m done dreaming.”

For me home is a person, a breath of air, a stroll to a mountain, a beautiful horizon resting on the sea in any place; a horse nickering in the early morning — thats home. Its the small joys that trigger memories of my family when i’m 4000 miles away in the back end state of nowhere.
So i lay my hat wherever i sleep at night — but never at home, because he already has hat.

where i lay my hat

agiocochook peak

Its the windiest place on earth, so they say. Agiocochook peak, better known as Mount Washington — was my first mountain. I mean i’ve seen them before from a plane, an airport or just passing through high country on a road trip, but i’d never been to the top. I’ve always found solace in being out at sea under full sail, or riding in the back country of Texas on horse back — but there is a peace in the mountains. A peace that spreads from peak to peak. You’re above the world, away from your everyday hustle and bustle — a life drowning in technology, must do’s and boundaries . Mountains are raw and dangerous, but remind us that the world; though it seems tame below, is far from a kept housewife on easy street.

mount washington state park

asd

mount washington
In some areas it looked so desolate and forgotten — like the surface of mars or earth after an apocalyptic catastrophe. I’ve always admired mountains; the peaks and bumps always reminded me of sleeping trolls that were hiding till nightfall. As a kid in Denmark — i grew up wary of the woods because of the trolls. I might be the only one, but i was always safer rather than sorry. And thus far — i haven’t been chewed in half by an angry troll.