Taevaskoda, “Heaven’s hall”.

A layer of the sandstone cliff had collapsed some time in the past year, like it was sloughing off a layer of old skin. All the names and dates scratched into the cliff face were gone, as well as the lichens and other assorted things growing on it. The cliff looked unusually fresh and bright.

Of course people couldn’t just let it stay that way; new tags had already been carved into the sandstone.

Falling turned the sandstone into sand. Ordinary, yet not ordinary: pink, beige, pale yellow.

Before visiting Taevaskoda we stopped for a cooling swim at Kiidjärv. The kids mostly splashed; I chased a runaway beach ball across half the lake, as the wind drove it this way and that.