– a journey into the Mysteries of Water
Morning mist is rolling in from the shore, the remnants of a rainy summer night. Elusive, yet being so close that one can nearly touch it. The sun finally breaks through, clearing up the mist into vapour, and it is gone, the remembrance of the night’s thunderstorm. Mist, the symbol of the unclear, the undiscovered, out of which discovery is born. Does it still hold any mysteries?
Continue reading “October 2025 – The Mysteries of Fog”
A memory of an impact millions of years ago. A collision. And now, one of the most peaceful places on the planet. For a stone, the million years are just a moment — a moment of observing its own reflection, timeless.
Glowing, the clouds reflect the last rays of the evening sun. Tinted in pink and coral against a soft blue canvas, they fill me with awe. The dark silhouettes of the trees add to the drama in the sky. Water and light, here in yet another combination, here in yet another dance.
Tinted in purple and blue, the bubbles float away through the air, upwards for a while, then sinking until they meet the ground or the foliage, disintegrating. Bubble after bubble flows out of the bubble wand, which is forming long sausages by the flow of air, soon pinching off into bubbles.
Continue reading “July 2025 – The soap bubbles”
Like a painting, the water surface shimmers. A patchy green stretches down from above, creating a striped impression on the ever moving canvas.
The sienna coloured rock walls blend in between. Like the memory filtering an artist’s impression, the water surface has its own way of doing the same.
A soft light illuminates the sky. In its way: cotton-like clouds and a falling rain. Little drops in the sky, friends to those on the grass, distract the light, turning its path in my direction, exposing its hidden colours. Down below: a mirror completing the path, faintly perceptible, yet there.
Glistening like diamonds in the morning sun, the small dew drops cling to the grass blades.
The slow wind gently caresses the nearest grass blade. To and fro the tip rocks, irregularly. Settles, for a moment still – and then a gust gives it a puff again. The little dew drops cling to the blade, firmly secured to it by the mutual attraction.
Continue reading “April 2025 – The dew drops”
A gentle brush, it seems, has left its traces in the sand. A group of pebbles seek to hide into the shore. So sensual. Water has just caressed their surface — taking off a little at a time. Here they lie, half hidden, half exposed, resting gently in the sand.
Whoosh. The water wave breaks joyously, cascading and foaming, noisily. The glassy towering ridge of water from the moment before is suddenly gone. Here releasing its power, all its thrust, in a joyous final motion before reaching the shore.
Self-organizing, seemingly out of nothing, the sand-water rolls appear. Where did they come from? The moment before, when the incoming stream reached its highest level and turned, there was only a flat surface of murky water.
Self-organization means the spontaneous formation of a macroscopic structure, an order for free, as it were, emerging when the effects of the individuals, e.g. the movement of water molecules, start to interlock and add up, forming a new complexity. When the conditions are right, self-organization occurs, spontaneously, like a vortex forming in a bath tub.
Continue reading “January 2025 – Self-organization”
What if we could take some moments each day reconnecting with those magic moments in nature?
That is why I created Water Calendar, to convey that magic, that curiosity, that emotional connection with nature.
Continue reading “Welcome to Water Calendar”
Photo: Lasse Johansson
Quietly, the duck swims across the water surface, its legs paddling silently underneath. Behind it, a small wake spreads distinctly, disturbing the otherwise completely still water surface. The sun is setting over the little lake – the oblique light causes the ripples to stand out, bringing them to my attention. Here at the outlet, just above a small dam, pieces of pond weed come drifting in an almost invisible current, and the duck hunts for food. Continue reading “The wake”