I owe an old friend of mine a long email.
Earlier this week he told me had started reading Chocolates in the Ocean again. I thought it was sweet of him to let me know – what author doesn’t want to know when someone is reading their novel – and I loved the way he told me he reacted to it. He told me that the more he read, the more he wanted to go in search of a more tranquil life and spend his time with the people who really matter. He’s not the first person who’s told me that.
Tranquility seems to be the feeling that pervades my book. At least according to my readers. Despite Anne’s inner turmoil, she’s still chosen to run to the most tranquil place I know. I’m delighted that I’ve managed to convey that.
I’m there now. I feel tranquil. Two days ago I picked lemon balm and mint in the garden and made sorbet. Yesterday I made gooseberry compote and served it with meringues and a whipped cream concoction we Danes call råcreme. (Add the egg yolks you discarded for the meringues to whipped cream with some sugar and a vanilla pod – delicious!) When I’m here, I wish I could be here forever, spending my days in the kitchen and the garden. All that’s missing is the big, black dog on the grass next to me.
I had big plans for this summer holiday. I was going to blog every other day, get myself a thousand Instagram followers and finish editing this draft of Chocolates on My Pillow. That last one might actually happen. But for the rest, I’ve been too busy being tranquil. Playing in the garden with my son. Reading old books together on a blanket under the trees. Playing board games when while the rain taps against the windows.
That to me is the magic of this island, Langeland. I’m so busy enjoying the moment, I don’t have time to plan for the future. There is no thought about tomorrow or next week or next year. There is only now.
And on Langeland, now is pretty amazing.