Tag Archives: summer

About that pan-Europan forest smell. Summer ramblings in Kent, England.

Where: Kent, England

When: Saturday, July 1st

What: Sevenoaks – Knole Estate – Ightham Mote – and back again

Who: E, E, N, R, K, R.

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The look of the primeval summer

I understood something a couple of days ago, on last Saturday when we set our course towards the Medieval-Tudor-Victorian Ightham Mote in Kent. I understood that many forests in Europe smell the same.

I also understood that summers are the most melancholy yet the most carefree seasons, and that for the second summer in a row I am not going kayaking or mountain biking as I had mused about. That’s the trouble with musings, however, they never get me anywhere. This makes them different from actual dreams/plans, of course, but it also works a nifty little beacon to any underlying dreams that might go untouched. It is good to know the undercurrents, I think.

Gentle, yet promising

Luckily, last Saturday also brought many lighter realisations. My leg has become stronger. Slowly I’m starting to feel like I can move again. And it is a good, satisfying, smile inducing feeling. Fair enough, running up little hills with R after a double pint of Hells Bells might have helped to get to obtain that positive outlook. But it was not only that.

There was a sweeter realisation at the top of those hills: nothing beats walking into the golden hour with your lover and your friends. (Technically, yes, fine, there are some things that beat this, but that is for the other blog.)

And also, most surprisingly – I understood that although I do not know what will be the next place or the next country where I shall be living in, I shall definitely miss English countryside when there. I shall miss it differently from the Welsh and the Scottish one which fall into a category totally of their own making! But the English countryside. The one that feels small and gentle, yet promising. The one that lacks the feel of the wilderness but that greets you as a friend. The one that can get so ridiculously pretty so fast that it feels like you should stop laughing at the way the sun is breaking through to the undergrowth.

See, the thing is, nature is beautiful everywhere. Yet there’s something about the English countryside that can’t be experienced anywhere else. It keeps a fine balance of alluring you in and then looking the other way for showing you its posh butt cheeks. And yet, you feel welcome. Somehow, it does feel like anold friend you meet again, again, and again.

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In between the unknowns / hymns to summer

Note to self: there’s nothing more valuable than listening to all the voices in your mind, than listening to all the voices of the other minds, attending to every new day through deciphering the rhythms of the mango leaves in the garden, dancing frantically in the wind, accidentally crazy, purposefully shocking the squirrels on their peanut-traced itineraries. At those moments everything becomes uncomplicated again; every barely tangible element in the moment transforms into a light and endless building block. And I guess it is the summer, and this endless warmth, and these moments full of time that no other season renders. Maybe it is important just to find a small travel in every day, a tiny new dance on every pavement, a new way to come home for 100 days in a row, a new way to make your story elements come together. It is never about inventing new stories, is it? It is all about how to put them together in a new way, and letting the chance in. This is also the essence of travelling – putting your own world together in a new way, every time you go far without any expectations, into the world of unknown pavements with that box of neon crayons.