brushing teeth in the presence of swans

130518eWe’ve been away for a few days, mr Dog and I. We’ve been to the island. The silence has been a relief. Well, there was that ship whose music we heard, one evening, until it arrived in Latvia. Or so it seemed; I’m sure it got all the way to Sandhamn and beyond before the noise died away. Sounds travel far over the surface of water. Waking up in the mornings, taking silent walks, is a blessing. Brushing teeth on the gravel beach in the dark blue dusk and in the company of swans is another. And the silence — the silence is like a drug. The silence is everything. (To the left is a rather crappy picture of the beach with the swans. I just wanted you to see them.)

The magnificent old oak tree is producing leaves, it’s turning green. It’s late, later than, for example, the birches on the island. There are cowslips in people’s gardens; not in our. Wood anemones are still glowing white from underneath trees during not so dark nights; on the other hand it’s now too light for gazing at stars in the sky, except possibly the very brightest of them, which can still be noticed. Evening walks are full of scents. Even for humans without particularly good noses.

Every winter, the beach rearranges the rocks and stones. In spring, you must disagree with how nature has taken care of things, and you risk the safety of your fingers and begin to move the rocks about. It’s ok, but, in the end, pointless. Next winter, things will be rearranged again, according to the whimsical predilections of waves and ice… and ships.

One evening — wednesday — and the two subsequent days were summer, and yesterday the air was ever so slightly stuffy, and it felt more like august than may; today, there was a shift in weather and we woke up to a splendid mist, which gave the sea a different appearance. All the other islands were gone. And the ships were blowing their fog horns.

I don’t want to be picky, but even though spring is wonderful, and certainly welcome (especially after this long winter), to me, autumn has more charm. I always feel more alive during autumn. And despite all the sprouting and blossoming of spring, I think nature does too. (See what old Rudi said!)

130518bmagnificent yellow flowers growing in dark ditches

130518amorning walk

130518cmr Dog waiting at the steamboat pier (though most of the passenger vessels are no longer steam ships)

130518dmisty morning