Tag Archives: spring

Cracking

Winter has received its final blow. It may not look like it for those of you who don’t have experience with winter, but despite the remaining snow, the air is warm and the sun sets later and later. Even in the middle of the night, the sky isn’t completely black.

Last night we went for a walk in the evening haze, both of us armed with a camera for the first time in forever.

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When this amount of now melts, there’s nowhere for it to go. Drowned trees gleam in the waning light.

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And drowned lamp posts!

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The sun was too bright to look at. To photograph it, you had to take a quick peek through the view finder and then close your eyes.

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Spirits awakening.

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Working

These little fellas were all over the osier the entire weekend.

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I’ll take a leaf from their book for the upcoming week, when there’s a ton of things to do: paint the house, record a radio programme, and grade my pupils just to name a few. And of course my long dormant writing inspiration takes this opportunity to rear its head. Ideas for an Advent story are crowding into my mind, believe it or not. Must be something in the water.

Goodbyes

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This weekend at the cabin became a little different. A new couple has bought the house next door, and the previous owner harvested all the trees that he owned in the surrounding forests. We came there just in time to see it happen.

Some trees are always left so that they can drop new seeds and secure the rebirth of the forest. They were marked with these red ribbons of salvation.

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It reminded me of the song Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree, which I kept singing all through the weekend. “Do you still want me?” Yes, these happy few were still wanted alive.

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As an aside, down by the stream a different kind of forester had made short work of the best birches. If all goes well, I’ll have a post about beavers sometime during the summer. I just need to muster the patience to sit there with my camera and wait…

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Paradoxically, everything seemed to be fading and dying, wilting and withering. Maybe to make way for the new.

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Rebirth in neon green

I almost want to apologise for how fake these photos look, but if anything, they’re less intense than reality. Wherever you go, the sun pierces through millions of breaking birch buds, creating tiny explosions of green light. Like chlorophyll stars, fallen to Earth.

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Sick of birches yet? 🙂 Here’s a closeup.

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And one of a felled tree whose leaves haven’t died yet.

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The lower the sun sinks, the more intense the contrast between that neon green and the darkening background.

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Or if you half close your eyes, it turns into a yellowish fuzz.

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The stream is still overflowing with melted snow.

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We ended the evening on our new balcony – where we still don’t have a door, so we have to climb out of a window! But who cares when the view is 360 degrees of hilly forest? A taster:

Hubby is quite contented. 🙂

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First day of summer

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Yes, I’m branding this a summer’s day, because I wore a dress after nine pm and wasn’t cold!

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All the snow has melted and the lake is swollen with water.

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It was 25 degrees during the day – too hot to function, but it made for a lovely, sunny evening.

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The birches are covered in a light green mist. Soon they will be heavy with leaves that give shade and hide these views.

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Softly, softly

And so it begins. Slowly unfolding, cautiously reaching for the light.

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Yes…

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I wasn’t even going to go for a walk tonight, because I was beyond tired. But I’d promised a colleague to snap a few pictures for her and the light was really pretty, so I forced myself.

And good job I did, because wow. I sometimes have to pinch myself, because this is where I live.

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The village is so perfectly nestled into the nooks and crannies of the wooded mountains.

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The beauty of puddles.

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Some parts of the forest are more photogenic than others. It’s hard to put your finger on, but it’s a combination of moss and the density of trunks.

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One of my favourite spots to photograph, and I arrived at just the right moment.

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The buds aren’t quite there yet, but they’re trying.

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There are still relics from last year, though. Drained and brittle, but still pretty.

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Things you don’t notice until you lie on your stomach at the edge of the lake with your elbow in a hole filled with dirty water…

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Ten o’clock and goodnight.

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