A lovely day, feeling soft spring air – and welcome to visit Frank at Beach Walk Reflections, where you can breathe even more fresh air. Right now Tina is walking there, and tomorrow, Thursday, I will be there too. Quietly walking.
We truly live in a magical world – not only in my many corona jigsaw puzzles.
For Debbies Six Word Saturday
In the early morning, I decided to drive out to the open fields to listen to the skylarks – my thrill this lovely day. And yes, they had arrived, and I heard them singing as soon as I opened the windows. I saw cranes ploughing high up in the sky and I heard swans trumpeting.
For Terri and Sunday Stills #Landscape
Spring invites us into a fairy land of imagination where flowers bloom with joy, butterflies fly with song, and love dances with love.
This week, Tina is our host on Spring. ”Noted by poets and lyricists as a season of hope and renewal, spring teaches us that despite (or perhaps because of) the hardships of winter, our world will once again blossom with new life. As we continue to deal with the issues of the day, spring teaches us to remain hopeful despite our challenges.”
Yes, there will always be more written on Spring – the joy, the returning of the light and the renewal of life. In southern Sweden, where I live, the cranes are the first heralds of spring, gigantic V – ploughs in the skies, heading for their breeding places up north.
Magic birds were dancing in the mystic marsh. The grass swayed with them, and the shallow waters, and the earth fluttered under them. The earth was dancing with the cranes, and the low sun, and the wind and sky.
― Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
Every year, in March and the beginning of April, tens of thousands of cranes return from Africa to Sweden to rest at Hornborgasjön. This day, in 2014, there were more than 19000 of them. Their trumpeting calls were deafening, but their dancing joy was pure ballet.
I watch the trees all dressed up in the Spring,
While posing as they stand in line,
Placing their best foot forward, showing off their leaves and fighting for attention,
One tree at a time
Trees are at my heart, and this forest is my home every day – not the least in May.
Spring is not a season; it is a mysterious illusionist who sets off fireworks in the depths of our soul!
When the rapeseed unleashes its yellow flames – I am there with camera, and eyes aglow.
It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.
This cherry tree was planted when my daughter Emma was born, 30 years ago.
In the winter you may want the summer; in the summer, you may want the autumn; in the autumn, you may want the winter; but only in the spring you dream and want no other season but the spring!
I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.
Tina writes that ”We have been given the gift of time – to learn more about ourselves and the world around us, and to develop a new or renewed appreciation for living every moment.” I am convinced this is a lesson for us all, and even more for some. Hopefully we will come out better humans, humans knowing that we should not return completely to the old ways of living. What we need is a sustainable world – and that is the gift we must hand over to our children.
Thank you for all your funny, creative and lovely summer memories and we hope to see you next week, when Patti is our host for Autumn. Until then, stay safe and well!
I mentioned in my delicate colours post, that I originally went out to find the orchids –
– but they were not yet there. I guess it has been too cold a spring for them.
The yellow archangel is another favourite in May – lightening up the forest shadows. Just like angels should.
When I silently reached the wetlands the air was filled with nightingale song and…
…my heart was filled with bumble bees.
I was not alone on the hike, several elderly couples were out with backpacks of ”fika” – the best Swedish word ever…
This boardwalk leads over the orchid fields – but the only flower to be found yet, is another beauty –
– bogbean or buckbean. I find it almost as lovely as an orchid anyway. It will be my closing image before returning home again on the dirt road. Getting hungry now!
And…it is not me who’s been running over the furrows…