Everyday life is full of petty absurdities. Little questions resonated through me as I crossed the deep-green foottracks in the nearby park, full of waterways, hidden canals, overgrown with green vegetation. The park connects our neighbourhood with the dunes. High dunes from where you can look over the sea beyond. The sky was grey, the wind cold. The surf looked greygreen and not quite inviting. But I took my salty dips, plunging around. Washing away all absurdities, questions. As we walked home again longing for hot tea, we gave each other a hand. Hers being as cold as mine. How heart warming!

Monday Morning took off in suiting Grey. Darkgrey is the Garbage Container that is looking out for emptying. Grey is the Morning Tea. Grey is my pullover put on to keep warm when going outside. And so on and so forth just until I climbed into the hill garden to take on the Radical Extraction Work, lifting the Herculean Pickaxe. And as the sun broke through – a changing of colours everywhere.

As the sun is gaining strength every day we enjoyed our first lunch outside on the balcony, in spite of the cold Southern wind. After all the heavy and grey days of the weeks that passed it would be a good opportunity to try the High Footway into the Solling Forest. And from there to descend and cross the wide open winter fields of the Brüggenfelder farmlands. The muddy track had been grubbed up by boars. Many hoofs of deer. A red squirrel danced across through the bush and slipped away between the bare trees.

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The snow today was ravishing. I had already been shoveling the sidewalk. Not knowing that there was more to fall. And even real thick snow, which would pile up over branches, trees, rocks and pavement stones, endowing the whole Foresthill with enchanting views and sceneries. So, it was clear that after midday I would make my forest walk. Descending through the silent wood covering the Solling slope down to the Southeast riverside.

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Live your daily life in love, peace and contentment. That was the simple practical truth my grandmother taught me. She survived WWII as a widow. She had lost all of her possessions in a bombardment. I loved to visit her and stay over in her small modestly furnished room. She never traveled anymore. She only minded to live her pious life as dedicated member of a free protestant church-community (Mennonites).

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