We spent a week in a red house by a lake in Valhalla, Sweden. It was autumn and the leaves were bright yellow. Three days later, the leaves had all fallen to the earth. We walked along paths picking up yellow birch leaves.
As we watched the seasons change around us, we spent time in the red house, reading, losing ourselves in books like we used to years ago.
In the early mornings, I wrote at the desk which overlooked the lake.
One afternoon, I went down to the lake and it was so still that it became a perfect mirror. I sat for half an hour to watch the calmness – there was no wind, no noise, nothing to disturb the perfect tranquility.
