Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The other day...

... I baked these:

Cinnamon rolls by some Swedish recipe. They came out very dry.

A day after I climbed the nearest mountain (or is it a hill with elevation a bit over 1000m?). It was freezing cold, the snow started to fall and the wind was blowing around my ears. On my way up I warmed myself but I was asking the trees, the snowflakes, the birds, the rocks - why am I doing this, torturing myself? I imagined how I sit in my cozy chair in my warm living room and read some excellent books I had brought home from a library... In a hut up there I drank some good hot tea and ate my lunch. The weather was even worse when I went down, back home. Then I realised that I had to go so far to be able to tell a story about my trip, to tell you that I saw an owl in a chimney of a weekend house I passed by, and to enjoy the coziness of my home even more. Often I say to myself:
If you don't go, you don't have a story.
Though the stories I read about are nice, too. :)


13mimosa said...

You're right about having stories if you do, but that's easier said than done. I admire you for walking alone, it's a sign of strong character I feel.

13mimosa said...

You Are a Snapdragon
"Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."

Not exactly what I would have said, but I like parts of it.