After work today, I left the little city and drove out to a nearby island the locals use for dog walking, running, skiing and whatnot. It had snowed heavily the day before, so there were not a lot of paths open to anyone – footsteps in the nature can only pack so much in a brief time. When I arrived the sun had not yet graced the sky, but was merely content with casting an orange glow at the end of the horizon. It was not yet morning. That’s night shift treasure for you.
I ventured into the woods where the trees stood tall and covered in white. The ground, likewise a blanket of powder outside the track, could be a canvas without paint. Every step I took made the snowy sound of cold – it was about minus 12 degree Celsius or so. Stepping into the dusky grove, I found myself transferred, not only to a winter wonderland outside time and space, but to a world of majestic Scandinavian middle age – my mind went to the Birkebeiners and their trek across the mountains. This was proof that real beauty still exists in the great outdoors if you know where to search for it.
As I trampled across ice and frost, the light became steady. Dawn was breaking. Little by little the treetops began glowing, little by little the sky became a continuously paler shade of blue, little by little the gold of the sunlight made the ocean into a creamy royal blue color – the lazy waves had no wind to back them up. It was as silent as silent can be when a Human stops to listen to the song of awakening birds in the forest.
I made the trip around the island. However, I was not yet ready to leave. Down to the banks of the sea, I journeyed to sit and look at the rising sun. I shared a cup of green tea with the morning, having barely missed the beginning of the magnificent happening. I sat there, almost as long as I had walked, to face the warm glow and embrace of the light. Still, all good things must come to an end. I got up, dusted the snow off my coat and began the road that would leave me back in front of a fireplace inside.
This story is true. If you do not believe me, here’s a picture to prove it, taken while seated at the sea in the winter sun. Well, prove it as much as it is your own opinion whether I took this particular picture or not. Perhaps I just like making up stories.