You walk through a bird sanctuary and the woods where Karen Blixen’s grave is, and turning a corner come to the sea and the house.
Inside the house is painted in creams and soft greens and filled with the furniture Blixen inherited from her parents. An outbuilding holds a collection of Blixen’s clothes, which she gave names: the Pierrot, La Rose Noire, the Chinese robe.
And everywhere there are flowers. Karen Blixen used to arrange the vases every day and I loved how when I visited in the middle of winter there was a lushness to the arrangements that softened the cold.
In this country, white flowers are often tight and spiky, a stingy bunch of carnations or wilted chrysanthemums. If that wans’t bad enough, the first spring flowers are often sold in aggressive yellows like loo bleach. Here, ranunculi and amaryllis fitted in with branches and holly sprigs, the odd dark tulip or hyacinth poking through.
Photos, January 2016.