Christmas is largely celebrated on the 24th across Scandinavia, and much of Western Europe, so the 25th is a quiet day of introspection, recovery and repose. To achieve our own state of tranquility, the Little Man and I took our first proper walk together in the forests north of Copenhagen, spending the festive season in Denmark as we are. With temperatures at -7C we both wrapped up warm, paying our respects to a diligent layering system, and set off into the profuse, abundant snow. The paths through the forest were well worn - skiers and walkers alike blazing a trail through the half-metre deep drifts of pure, white powder. We strolled slowly, cautiously, blissfully, devouring the enchanting domain encircling us and exalting in each other's company. The Little Man variously slept, gurgled and stared, revelling in (as babies do) the light around him - so easy for his eyes to pick out the dark, silhouetted arboreal spectres against the pearly-white background. We stooped to capture for Mrs M the beauty and majesty of the towering, spidery giants garbed in white and to sit and watch nature in its own serenity. I can think of no better way to celebrate Christmas than this, followed by a hearty lunch with family and a warming hot chocolate.
Merry Christmas everyone.