View upon the Krukenburg ruin

Its a kind of twofold daily exercise: root extraction in the morning, walk around in the afternoon.
A kind of health program for the selfhealing practician. And we both share it with enthousiasm. We are moving digging through our own grounds and we enjoy engaging ourselves in rediscovering our new homeland. Meanwhile the sun is extending its orbit every day. The winds are still chilly, the nights sometimes clear and frosty. Sometimes you hear the rain fall and a thunderous rumble. I never felt felt unsafe here, exposed to the forces of nature.


Which may be somewhat naive. Walking through the forest, just around the corner of our own green backyard, you see big, even giant trees fallen down, uprooted, lifting heavy rocks between their toes. Its not idyll and tenderness in the natural universe. And even where a young laurel extends its hold and grip on a stony slope, tremendous forces are at work. An underground network of root-branches penetrates wherever resistance gives way. Branches rise out of roots and branches turn in to roots. A tree or a bush is a miracle of streaming and weaving forces.

In the afternoon - as the axe is put aside in the shed - we walk up into the forest, over the uplands under a vast sky. Taking a deep breath into all directions, open to new vistas, unknown experiences. Looking up into the sky alongside the roads we follow, we see mistletoes weaving themselves into old apple trees. My beard is itching: perhaps a sign that green lighting moss is rooting around my browning apple cheeks.