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.
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