Det er hvidt herude,
kyndelmisse slår sin knude
overmåde hvas og hård,
hvidt forneden, hvidt foroven,
pudret tykt står træ i skoven
som udi min abildgård.Steen Steensen Blicher. 1838.
It´s all white here.
Kyndelmisse ties its knot, strangely sharp and hard.
White below, white on top, powdered thick stands woods
as in my garden.
Steen Steensen Blicher. 1838.
I wintertime the sun often sets with a abundance of blue colours. The air vibrates with the coming darkness, and the fatigue sets in.
In the winter of 54, being 11 years old I had to collect free frozen carrots for my rabbits some miles from my home. The carrots were transported in my little brothers baby carriage tied to my bicycle. Driving or rather walking through the landscapes that was dressed in blue snow, I got immensely tired. At home I was ill with a rather high fever. But the rabbits got their feed, and I never forgot the deep blue colours on the road home through the dusk of winter.