I woke early and walked around the 3 mile rural block after breakfast. It was warm and still. With the wind turbines slowly grinding to halt beyond the hill. Several hares explored the asphalt ways before slipping out of sight back into the crops. It is a strange concept that the crops hide such enormous numbers of wildlife. Many of which live out their lives completely unseen.
I was assaulted by birdsong at every step and equally delighted by the huge variety of grasses and wild flowers on show. The variation in crops is becoming ever more noticeable. Even my weak sense of smell could not ignore the sweetness of freshly cut hay and the childhood memories growing up in the unspoilt British countryside. That was before the Earth was invaded by alien traffic, of course. It took only two or three years in the 1960s to lay waste to all which lay before it.
The gentle Danish landscape has sensitized me to variations in contour. The arrangement of folds and woods catching my eye and demanding another photograph. To add to my already vast collection. I love the way the farmer's spray tracks can lead the eye into the distance. The combination of artifice and accident of line adding their own, unique charm to the heavily cultivated landscape. Much of it No Man's Land, so that it might as well be heavily mined as far as public access is concerned.
I finally left at 4.30pm, only realizing I had forgotten to buy bread when I was half way home. I was passed by two different cyclists making it look completely effortless as they passed me at +10mph. You can't be a cyclist without cycling often enough and far enough to call yourself a cyclist. Not when you are a tricyclist and carrying shopping as well. If the shopping bags were any larger I would make a very good tortoise. Nine miles.