find yourself amongst the stones

The snow falls for many months in the winter here, heavier than it would in Denmark and its one of the few things about New England i actually love. Leaving the heavy bustle of apartment living and cities to go through the woods in the snow, is a welcome retreat for me.
Feeling the great spirit of everything around me. The rustling in the woods of the deer, Thor brewing another storm and just being able to truly breathe.
I don’t have my little plot of land with yet, so wilderness is my freedom till that day comes.
As many of you know, you grow older and the hardships start to pile and bring you down to earth where the worms live. The ground is tough in every land and you have to work to make those flowers grow. They may not grow in Texas the way they do in Denmark, but no matter how hard and covered in ice the ground becomes — when the seasons bloom as do the flowers.

trolls across the pond

Ever since i was a child i was frightened of wandering into the woods alone.
There were all kinds of darknesses between the gnarled tree trunks, and the tricksters hiding under a blanket of moss that covered the forest bed. I always had the feeling that i was a little girl in a H.C Andersen fairytale. The gloom of his depresses and the depth of his fantastical visions ever present in the Danish countryside that i grew up in. Life had lessons for me even then, and the innocence was always laced in a dim light of frightening events.


All my life i’ve believed in the legends of norse mythology.
Trolls eating rocks and all the bad little children. Having a house nisse to keep your home safe and Thor hammering mjölnir into the sky when he’s angry.


After all these years im glad those childish beliefs and thoughts have never left me. Still now, as i wander through the thicket of a forest and climb the crumpled stones — i think of those mountain kings, the big nosed trolls and the bad witches. I wonder what they’re doing and if they are with me on turtle island — or if they keep to the nordic scapes alone.
I wonder if i ran into a troll if he would speak in tongues.


In truth i contemplate if i am a viking alone on a vast continent of settlers, and thats all there is to it. I have no kinship and no ancestors here, but i believe that thor still pisses through the clouds when hes drunk — and that odin still watches over me when times are tough.


I am so thankful for my heritage, my history and where i come from.
An old country kid from danish farm country, blood of the vikings and ravens as my guardian angels.
This blog post is nothing special — just random ramblings to clear my mind.

Happy Thursday!

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.”