Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Landscape
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for the most part they lie in placid calm, content to
let the lights and shadows play their everlasting
game over their slopes.
And the plain, which is good and fertile and loves
cultivation, wages constant war against the hills—in
all friendliness, be it understood.
“It is sufficient,” says the plain to the hills, “if
you raise your walls around me; then I shall be
amply protected.”
But the hills cannot be persuaded. They send out
long stretches of tableland to the lake; they make
lovely points from which to get a view; and, in fact,
it is so seldom that they will leave the shore that
the plain hardly ever has a chance of rolling itself
down to the soft sand of the lake shore. But it is
useless to complain.
“Be thankful we are here,” answer the hills.
“Remember the time before Christmas, when day after
day the icy mists roll over the Löfven. We are doing
you a good turn by standing here.”
The plain laments its want of room and that it
has no view.
“You are stupid,” reply the hills. “You should
feel how it blows here near the water. At the least,
it requires a granite back and a pine tree covering
to bear it all. Besides which, you should be content
with looking at us.”
And that is what the plain does. You know what
wonderful changes of light and shade and color
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