expat blogger of the month

Hello lovely readers !
Let me catch you up a little on whats going on.
A few days ago i received an email asking if i was interested in contributing to an online expat magazine on expat.com.
I was so surprised and super excited, so of course i said yes. What an interesting opportunity.
I only recently happened across this website for expats a week or two ago from happening to glance at a few other expat blogs, so this all happened really quickly. Hence my surprise. Its a really great platform for people to learn about moving abroad and getting information from real people who have experienced that kind of life. So its genuine advice, thoughts and discussions. So if theres anyone out there reading this that wants to move abroad and wants a little help, this might be a nice place for you. (This is not an advert by the by — this is just my own opinion and i’m not paid to have said opinion). 
Anyway, they sent me a list of questions to answer about my blog and my general expat experiences. I know i don’t write like other people so i was a little unsure that my writing was right for something like this as its very “novel-esque,” but thats just the ever present self doubt we all suffer from once in a while making an appearance.

Tomorrow this little extract on me goes live on the online magazine, and i didn’t realise it that it means i am “the blogger of the month” August 2018 ! How exciting is that after only having been a member for a very short time?


Thats my little bit of news for this gloomy Monday night.
I hope you all have a lovely on going week, and that its not as humid where you are as it is here.
You can read the “interview” here!

Its never too early in the year for long johns. Ever.

 

 

oh, pawtuckaway

Birds deep in their song, hidden in the fur of branches in Pawtuckaway park are a gift after months of snow and ice.
Nature runs in our blood like whiskey in a drunk. We’re bred to explore, to feel the wind in our faces and to sweat under a glaring sun.
We are as wild at heart as the buffalo and the bear.
Never mind the water snakes.
 

♡ 

No matter how far you travel from where you were born you are never truly lost if you open your heart to the wild. For there is wild in every corner of the earth. Whether it is splashing in a cold lake on a hot day, pulling yourself up a mountain or hanging on for dear life on the back of a horse.
You can find home in a million places but you have to find you first.
Everything falls into place after that.

The first day of the season.
Geese were paddling gaily in the open stretches of lake streams. The wind was playing in the eaves as a scandic child would in snow. Only hazes of clouds that could have been, floated in the clear blue. There was nothing missing here. It was everything and nothing.
Nothing we needed. Nothing we couldn’t over come.
Everything was just the two us walking through a wood.
Chipmunks spitting out nut shells, baby squirrels leaping from bed to branch and the water snakes slithering in the under growth, this is living.

So many have been denied the art of living.
Everyday the same.
It doesn’t have to be us.
And it doesn’t have to be you.

Paint like you did when you were four with your fingers all in that mess.
Run like you were running the olympics. Run to all those dreams your adult self decided weren’t meant to be.
Yes, you have to work to live, but you must always remember that you live for you.
The wild will always be calling you — open the damn window and listen.

Like my ancestors before me, i travelled so many miles from my little home in Denmark all those years ago; to wake up every morning under a new sun and see what the world had to offer me.
Walking the path of a wanderer in the free of it.
That meant putting certain things on hold and risking everything to find something bigger or better.
My love of the stage, comedy, sailing which was like breathing to me and the old captain who lives on without me.
Its all worlds away now.
And whilst my family and my shipmate, live all those thousands of miles from me — i know that i carry them with me on my shoulders everyday.
The hardships, the laughter and the memories.
The days we sailed through life without a care for anything.
With every post card, every photo in an envelope — they can live as i do.
In the mountains.
On the Texas plains.
By the sea.
I’d be lying if i said it wasn’t terribly hard to be gone, but you have to walk the way your heart goes.
Mine raced far ahead of me with the wind.
Who am i to deny it?
As long as the wind blows i’ll never catch it.

The wind will never stop blowing, and i shall always trail my heart to wherever it is supposed to go.
I don’t where i’ll end up but i’m lucky to have someone to go with me.
This weekend we lost ourselves in these woods.
We laughed like idiots, i got my feet wet and Jack turned into Gandalf the blue-eyed.
And as i mentioned on facebook,
no one got eaten by a bear.



“Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors.”

another heart on your sleeve

In someplace New Hampshire the sun finally sprung. Spring has begun to bloom and the snow that we had last week seems forever past. We had sunshine today. Birds were singing of summer nights to come and green buds are popping up between all the broken branches like little bulbs of hope.
Its not Texas anymore — so we don’t have 100 degrees in April and we’re definitely not drinking margaritas whilst getting bled dry by mosquitoes, but summer is officially on its way to New England.


Its no secret that New England is not the place that i’ll be buried. My life doesn’t match the culture here, but i’m proud to say that i tried it. In truth i believe its because it reminds me too much of why i wanted to leave England after all those years. I got the t-shirt so to speak, however, at least wherever i go the country is beautiful. There no denying that.
I always roam just out of reach because thats where life begins.

Jack and i are making note to walk as many of the trails as we can before we move on to our next adventure, to see as much of the nature of New Hampshire and Maine as we can. As i said it reminds me of old England with the stoney beaches, fresh green trees, hidden caves and slim country roads.
I’m hoping to come across a bear or a moose, as long as its not with the bonnet of the car or while we’re lost in the woods somewhere. I don’t fancy turning to scat before hit my prime…. if ever. I keep a log of the wildlife i see in America — and i’m always looking to add new fantastic beasts to add to my list. Its very Stephen Maturin of me — don’t know who he is? Look him up and read the books.
At some point i’ll dig out my list of American Animalia that i’ve come across. That could be interesting.


Theres nothing like adventuring with a Texas boy — he can find the country in anything. We drove with the windows down and country music crooning through our speakers. Living in some 80’s B movie.

I’m an old soul from a dusty old book forgotten on a dead actors bookshelf.
Jack says my hair is as red as the texas sunset – he says the best things to me. A man who single handedly changed my life and opened my eyes to living.
My heart was bound for the ocean, but i live dreaming ever onwards to somewhere i may never reach and now reaching anything doesn’t mean a damn thing. What matters is who i’m surrounded with on the way. Thats what makes travelling what it is — the freedom to live as free as a soul bound for somewhere with another’s heart on my sleeve. Cities and people aren’t my bag — i have my wolf-pack and the people that have changed my life but my game is in the rustling leaves, in the sap between the wrinkles of tree trunks, between the cloud where i fly, in the rock pools or in the nostrils of a bucking horse through monument valley. A caged bird wont sing.
I wont write if i don’t feel.

“Remain true to yourself, child. If you know your own heart, you will always have one friend who does not lie.”