January · Möderndorf

Light snow, quiet fog

When the first snow dusts the meadows and the morning fog lingers low over the Gail, Möderndorf grows quiet, the kind of silence one rarely hears.

Smoke rises from old chimneys, the bells of the surrounding farms barely audible. Winter here doesn't shout, it whispers.

From the kitchen window of the farmhouse, the fields fade slowly into white, and the line between sky and meadow disappears for a few hours. These are the mornings we hideaway for. Coffee at the long table, a slow start, and a long walk before the village wakes.

It's the kind of winter that belongs to Carinthia, soft, generous, never harsh. The kind you find more easily in old houses than in new ones.