The tree standing in front of my house is a birch. In the summertime it provides us with the most soothing shade, in the wintertime it helps me track the sun. The sun still hangs low, just above the horizon, but when it reaches the first branches spring won´t be far. A month. Maybe two. Not more.
And birch sap will flow, from a well down below.
And fresh green birch leaves will make a healing thea, to cleanses the system, like a cure. But for now the gift of the birch is the measurement and the spark; birch bark. You need it to light the fire in the fireplace.
The lake is called Lake of Elks. Not far from here a bear is hibernating, everybody talks about her, nobody sees her, like nobody sees the elks when they WANT to (elks choose time for you) especially not the hunters, when they arrive in autumn, fresh out of Stockholm, all elks disappear, sure as amen in church. Today though all the creatures where out strolling (not the bear)
We are building a better sledge, this one is still in beta, left over materials from the building of the mudroom plus a couple of old skis, you´d be amazed how far you can come with nothing.
It was a mild day. Trees where playing their snowdust game, breathing, exhaling
colors where bright and birds where singing as we shoveled a maze around our house, there is no easy way in, or out, and I like that about my house, I would have been whistling if I could whistle.
Today I smelled our summer existence, tasted it on the tip of my tongue. I had forgotten the mild wind on my cheeks, I had forgotten the bonfire and the garden, I had forgotten the trees and the creatures and today I was reminded, oh so kindly reminded, so gentle, there is LIFE out here.
What else is there to say?
It´s so simple.