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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.
I just received this through the post today! I’ve been waiting for around a week and it came a few days early which was a nice surprise. I wasn’t all that excited about it until i saw how good it looked when it arrived. Its obviously all my photography and the book itself was designed by me.
So i’ve spent my self-designated lunch break today flipping through this short show of my photographic livelihood, drinking sun-brewed black cherry tea and listening to Basil snoring away. Now i feel inspired to keep going. Keep creating. Envisioning the world as i do whether its in colour or black and white. Its really given me a boost.
Recently i’ve been really into my writing which means i’ve yet again been neglecting my blog here, but when the writers block releases its clutches and you can carry on living through your works — you damn well take the bull by the balls and you live/write. I obliged.
Believe me when i say that if you don’t hear from me — thats usually a good thing.
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.”
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.
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.
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.