Eating kilometres for breakfast
As the road winds through the seemingly infinite forest and climbs north through Sweden, I see the first few tantalizing flakes of snow. I am chasing the seasons; trying to outrun spring.
I exit the highway and head out on the back roads, passing through towns and villages that are quietly stirring from a winter sleep. Cars begin to emerge from their snowy cocoons and logs are being chopped and expertly stacked ready for next year’s fire.
There is an air of simplicity, things happening because they are necessary as dictated by the changing of the seasons. The beautiful houses - the work of patience and care, a pride in the living of life well*.
But I race on through. Eating kilometres for breakfast and only sleeping in the back when tiredness lays heavy upon me. As night falls I find seclusion in the trees. I eat and rest.
I awake near the gently lapping shore of a crystal clear sea where huge lumps of ice slowly dissolve into the waters. The farm where I head grows ever closer and I know I will make it there before the spring comes. I take a deep breath and slow my pace. Trying to drink in and savour the beauty of this country.
On a deserted beach, showing only the vestiges of what must be a busy summer trade, I bathe in the frigid sea and ready myself for the following days.
*I encourage you all to visit http://cabinporn.com/archive and day dream about a more simple life.
