Hallo lieber Gast

willkommen in den klaren Weiten im Norden Deutschlands, begleite mich auf meinen Pfaden durch die Natur, Ausflügen und Reisen, auf der Suche nach Ruhe und Anregung. Entdecke mit mir Linien und Freiräumen, die die Perspektiven, die Vielfalt der Farben und Formen dieser Welt und unserer Natur uns bieten und genieße Momente der Nachdenklichkeit, Poesie und philosophischen Worte großer Dichter und Denker, manchmal auch meine eigenen lyrischen Texte dazu.

Schön, dass Du Dir die Zeit genommen hast - wunderbar, Dich hier zur wissen!

" Ich muss mich ganz im Stillen mit meiner Außenwelt reiben,. sonst werde ich untauglich für die Welt."

- Paula Modersohn-Becker

My North - Lueneburg Heath

 








A wise traveler never despises never his own country. 

William Hazlitt


The magic of the heather bloom

All you need to know about the heather bloom on Lueneburg Heath

Lueneburg Heath, Europe's largest interconnected heath area, offers a natural landscape that is without comparison in Central Europe. The unique charm of the Lueneburg Heath landscape comes into its own when the heather blooms in August and September. The vibrant purple of millions of blooms interspersed with the luscious green of juniper bushes and spruce trees and the silvery-white of the birch trees immerse the entire region in a blaze of color.

When does the heather bloom?

The heather (Calluna vulgaris) blooms from the beginning of August until mid-September if climatic conditions are evenly balanced. An old 'heathen' rule of thumb says "The heather blooms from 08.08. to 09.09. every year!" You can keep an eye on the current stage of the heather bloom with our Heather Blooming Barometer. We keep track of each phase of the bloom from July to September and publish new photos in the Heather Bloom Barometer on our website nearly every day.


read more-> ©www.lueneburger-heide.de   



Skywatch Friday - Image-in-Ing - My Corner of the World

Through my Lens No. 298 - Travel Tuesday No. 297 - Himmelsblick



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Losing a pet

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Golden Eyes

When golden eyes no longer glow,
and we both know it’s time to go,

Don’t look at me with eyes so sad,
but think of better times we had,

When sunlight did upon us shine,
and happy days were yours and mine,

And through the grass we both did run,
and on our backs we felt the sun,

Think not of this dark final hour,
think not of when our lives turned sour,

Think not of hopelessness and pain,
but think of joy and laugh again,

For in that final act of love,
you released me to heaven above,

Where finally from pain I’m free,
where one day you will join with me,

Where together again we will rejoice,
and you and I as with one voice,

Will in perfect harmony sing,
of the joy and pain that love can bring,

And remember me just as I will,
always think of you until,

At last, again I see your face,
grieve not, I am in a better place.

Carol Walker




In addition to the unbearably painful loss of my beloved father in March of this year, there is now also the difficult farewell to my Xenia after 17 wonderful years in our life. 



 shared with: Sandy's Feline Friday

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My North - Anticipation

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“Well," said Pooh, "what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.”

― A. A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh




Planning our first time in August 2021 after the two-year pause of the Covid lookdown, enjoying the wonderful North Sea coast again is just the same moment like that Pooh described ... 







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Sommertraum

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Sommertraum

Golddurchflammte Ätherwogen,
Schwerer Äste grüne Bogen,
Süß verwob'ne Träumerei'n…
Sommer, deine warmen Farben,
Helle Blumen, gold'ne Garben
Leuchten mir ins Herz hinein…

In dem Wald, dem dämm'rig düstern,
Hörst du's rauschen, lispeln, flüstern,
Elfenmärchen – Duft und Schaum…?
Blumenkinder nicken leise,
Lauschen fromm der alten Weise
Von des Waldes Sommertraum…

Und der See, der windumfächelt
Lallend plätschert, sonnig lächelt,
Netzt das Schilf aus lauem Born…
Rosen blühen am Gelände,
Rosenglut, wo ich mich wende,
Und im Herzen tief ein Dorn…



Lisa Baumfeld, 1877 - 1897









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