Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Rubbish house, georgous loctation.

The August blue sky and the brand new, red life saver cannot hide the fact that this boathouse has seen its best days. Rubbish.
Even so, if it came on the market, one would  probably have to pay more than 170 000 US Dollars to get it. I know, because there was a similar boathouse, but with not that spectacular location for sale a few years ago. I couldn't afford it. I actually don't need it either. I don't have a boat and the beach is located only 7 minutes walk from our home.
This is a private boat house on a public bathing resort within the city of Haugesund, but facing the North Sea. The Norwegian government has decided that the sea side should be available to all inhabitants, therefor the building of  new boat houses within the cities is prohibited. This being a public beach makes it impossible to build new houses here. I am fine with that. I so enjoy being here any time of the year.
The Bay of Whale is naturally formed by the mountains and bergs, but to protect the bathing guests from the strong currants a breakwater is built to the right in the picture. These are dangerous waters, one can see the currants even on a silent day like this. The light house to the left is an ancient sea mark.

The beach was built for public use in the 1930-ies. The architect has so loved the art deco style. Even today the eyes find it pleasant to admire the familiar art deco lines, vogues en vogues, so very fitting. It's comforting that the rubbish boat house never will come for sale or being allowed converted into a villa. These locations are treasured by all Haugesund's inhabitants, and so they shall remain.

Linking to Rubbish Tuesday with Roan. http://rubbishbyroan.blogspot.no/

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

My mother's old school, not so rubbish.

 
Not just any old school, but the Vestly School, which my mother attended from 1931 - 1934. It's been taken care of of voluntary members of the community, and reverently kept in original order.
My first cousins arranged a gathering there two years ago.





The classroom had two blackboards, one for learning sheet music, the other for writing and mathematics. There used to be an old piano. My mother took up playing the piano at the age of 70. She still remembered the codes from her childhood. Wall charts were daily used in lack of advanced books.



Wall chart illustrating the stone age in Norway.



I guess my Mother sat and looked dreaming out on the beautiful Jaer-scenery by this  desk.


Until the doors opened and they were free to leave for the day.



My mother outside Vestly School ca. 1932, first row, number two from the left.









Rubbish Tuesday is hoasted by ROAN.http://rubbishbyroan.blogspot.no/

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Rubbish Tuesday in Norway



In a remote graveyard outside 
a remote village this headstone 
was tucked away against the graveyard's wall.  
                                                          
"Hereunder rests the remains of NN",  the inscription says. 
                       
Rest in peace. 
You are not
forgotten anymore.

                                   

http://rubbishbyroan.blogspot.no/

Thursday, June 05, 2014

Why Bob Dylan came to the church

http://gfx.dagbladet.no/kultur/2001/06/21/dylanmontasje.jpg                                                                                                                                                Norway has been a Christian kingdom since 1030, when king Olav, later to be called "The Holy", won a siege at the battle of Stiklestad near the city of Trondheim. The king fell in the battle between the Christ-Men, King's Men and the Farmer Army. 
Through his death he turned hatred and hostility to peace. 
The entire kingdom decided on a Thing, (democratic assembly from back to year 700), the Christianity should replace Odin, Thor and the rest of the old pagan belief. Now wonders kept to occur near the belated king, and a church was built in his memory. The first of many Saint Olav churches. The building started only four years after King Olav's death. King Olav was buried behind the high altar, later placed in a sacred shrine, and pilgrims from all over Europe came to taste the holy water of Saint Olav's spring water. Royal coronations were performed in the church till our days. Our king and queen were officially blessed for their duty in a ceremoniously  in the Nidaros Cathedral.

The Catholic church named the cathedral "Cor Norvegia" , heart of Norway, since the relics of Saint Olav were placed there.
Also after the reformation in 1578 the church held its position of the foremost church in Norway.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/80/Vinterdomen.jpg
To maintain  and even extend and add ornaments on this old stone church, an entire workshop with crafted stonemasons, plasters, sculptures, archaeologists and conservators work all around the year to keep the church from deteriorating.
In the 1960-ies it so happened the sculpture of Archangel Michel lost its head.

 http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a3/NidarosdomenPanorama.jpg                                       Archangel Michael on the spire to the left of the front facade.
The sculptor followed an ancient tradition, to let a living person be a model for the replacement head. 
This happened the early sixties with scaring murders of American presidents, Asian wars, social uprising in the ghettos, the cold war and above all the terror of a nuclear war, threatening to destroy the entire globe.   The sculptor let the face of the spokesman for all our fear and despair be depicted in the face of the mightiest angel of all, Michael.
Such were the times, that it took 50 more years who was the model of archangel Michael.
Now even more pilgrims visit the dome to admire this mighty testimony.

Gunnar was there yesterday, and I said the only thing I really wanted as a souvenir was a postcard of archangel Michael/Bob Dylan.

"When He Returns"

The iron hand it ain't no match for the iron rod
The strongest wall will crumble and fall to a mighty God
For all those who have eyes and all those who have ears
It is only He who can reduce me to tears
Don't you cry and don't you die and don't you burn
Like a thief in the night, he'll replace wrong with right
When he returns.

Truth is an arrow and the gate is narrow that is passes through
He unreleased His power at an unknown hour that no one knew
How long can I listen to the lies of prejudice ?
How long can I stay drunk on fear out in the wilderness ?
Can I cast it aside, all this loyalty and this pride ?
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace, that the war won't cease
Until He returns ?

Surrender your crown on this blood-stained ground, take off your mask
He sees your deeds, He knows your needs even before you ask
How long can you falsily and deny what is real ?
How long can you hate yourself for the weakness you conceal ?
Of every earthly plan that be known to man, He is unconcerned
He's got plans of his own to set up His throne
When He return.

Tuesday, October 08, 2013

Absolutely Autumn.


Autumn has definitely arrived at my terrasse.
The last blossoms of the summer are fighting for their existence in yellow, orange and red.



This spring I spread nasturtium seeds in pots and pans wherever I saw brown soil. I fear that snails and caterpillars might eat the most, but oh joy, the power of the seed won the race.









My mother would always use the last summer months first removing the blossoms, they are edible, to lure the plants producing  more flowers, and later collecting seeds for next year's flower feast.    I feel so close to her, going through the same procedures. 

  
Begonias are fighting for their lives. The first night frost will mean the end of them. I will as always bring them in security, in our basement,  and try keeping them alive till next spring.
 

I have collected small seeds from the pansies since August. They have been a true blessing. Blooming since April.



My dahlias are the greatest challenge. They either dry or rot indoors. This time I have found a garden expert allied. By following her advices I once more will give them a chance. It's to sad just to let them die. They are grandmother  flowers and so deserve to live. "The spring begins in the autumn", Karel Capek said. I'm so looking forwards to the fruits of my work. Have a wonderful Ruby Tuesday.

 
Photo and poem © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher


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