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In the morning as I sip my freshly brewed cup of coffee, I often find myself ‘zoning out’ of our kitchen window. I live in a beautiful area, in upstate New York. We are surrounded by trees and nature. It is very quiet here, and I can easily be submerged in the peaceful setting. I love nature, and am not afraid to admit that it talks to me… and I’m also not afraid to admit that I listen to it, too.
When I was a teenager, I remember packing a notepad and pen, a snack, and my walk-man into my backpack. Then I’d walk off into the woods near my home, sit in nature, and just write. I would love to watch the wind blow through the upper limbs of the trees - it looked like they were waving. Listening to the wind can be very therapeutic.
We live in a neighborhood, but it was well-planned, allowing nature to encompass each lot. Our front and back yards are bustling with action – squirrels, birds, and cats are a constant. In the distance you can often hear pecking of the enormous wood-pecker, pounding into a random tree trunk; or the different species of birds chatting away to each other. In the warmer months, crickets serenade the moon, and you might think you’re camping as you sit around the fire-pit and gaze up at the stars.
Outside my window I see a beautiful, magical world that we all live in. I’m not afraid to admit that nature speaks to me, and I also admit that I listen to it, back – does it speak to you? Are you listening..?
Baltic Mist begins on a farm Norway, and takes the reader through the epic adventures of Helga's enchanting life. Beginning in Book One, her tale falls against the backdrop of Scandinavia's conversion to Christianity. The saga continues in Books two and three to a finale that no one, even Helga herself, could have ever imagined!
A must read!
Enjoy an excerpt:
“…My point is here made, for you can find the pleasure or the insult in any given moment.” I began to step closer to where he stood, unafraid of the images I saw in my mind. He was aggressive and unpredictable. I could see him as a child, maybe in his seventh or eighth year, plunging the blade of axe into another boy and leaving him dead. But I remained unafraid. His heart was forceful, and he was destined for greatness. I knew harm to me or mine he would not commit.
“The lineage from which you spawn is a glorious one, Egil: grandson of Kveldúlfr, the ‘Evening Wolf’ and very wise, shape-shifting Viking. It was he that owned much land from his plundering. You fled to the Land of Ice with your father, then returned…and here you now are. You are talented in words, a gift that gains you options in battle…for you may utilize them, or your sword. Either way, you will surpass and succeed. You will be spoken of for centuries beyond today.” Egil was speechless but honored.
“But be warned: The King’s messenger’s friends,” I continued, as I allowed my mind to purge its knowledge, “…they were told to slay you – and the party you are seeking to join up with after you leave here? They have deserted you. The ill-meaning men await you now in the wood, and with weapons ready they are expecting you…be assured.” I finished and inhaled, as I was winded.
“How did you know all of this, Helga?” Egil questioned me. Breaking my eyes away from his I subtly shook my head - I had no answer for him…I did not know how I knew, I simply just knew.
“Did you tell her of this?” Looking to his companions, Egil asked. They were equally confused. I had obviously revealed knowledge that none of us were privy to.
Egil looked genuinely unnerved. Here this great man of many lands stood in front of us all. He who was known to viking and frightened of no one was now at a loss for language and decision.
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