11/9/2022 0 Comments Soul of darkness javaBut with the approach of evening a mysterious atmosphere descended on the place. The logs crackled in the painted tile stoves, the click of my typewriter cut through the silence and Lilya, my taciturn housekeeper, sat with her knitting in the cosy hall. Their cries were borne to the shore, but met with no response, for in winter the coastal woods have hardly any bird life.īy day, life in the little cottage where I lived was commonplace enough. Sometimes wild geese, which that year returned too early, settled in the water and gabbled interminably. Here and there the gloom was relieved by white sheets of shaggy snow. The Latvians have christened the Baltic “Amber Sea” (Dzintara Jura), and they have done so, I think, not only because it casts up much amber, but because its waters have a yellowish amber tint.Īll day long a thick mist lay low on the horizon, blurring the shoreline. The Baltic shores are bleak and desolate in winter. In stormy weather one heard not so much the roar of the surf as the crunching of ice and the rustling of settling snow. The snow, patted with rabbit tracks, extended to the very edge of the water but the sea itself was unfrozen. Fluttered by the wind, which penetrated through various chinks, the curtains gave me the feeling that they were being drawn by someone who was furtively watching my movements. To reach it I would walk down a little path past an empty cottage with curtained windows. And from the stately pines, too, snow was wafted down in fluffy strands by the wind and by the frisky little squirrels which, when it was very still, could be heard nibbling at the cones. I remember living one winter in a seaside cottage on the Baltic dunes.
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