Wednesday, January 02, 2008
The Lady with the lamp,Gunnar's Sister Sigrid.
The couple in the middle, cosine Kristina and her Osmund are to be married this year. We wish them luck, also with finishing five years of music education.
My mother was not at all sure she wanted to celebrate Christmas this year.The emptiness after my father simply seemed to tough to cope with. Neither would she come to us in stay in the town for some time. Then one morning she phoned that it was to be Christmas as usual with Mom at the steering wheel.
We all had to set everything and everybody aside to achieve this aim.
My father's headstone is not yet on its place. After Christmas Eve mass we lit a lamp and hung a wreath at his grave.
Serina and my brother Kel at the church yard, both in deep reflections.
Gunnar and my dad were real good friends, they shared many interests and showed mutual respect. "We'll have to wait till Gunnar comes home," my father used to say when there were troubles of any kind.
Our small but tightly knit family gathered around the dinner table. Roasted lamd and crisp roasted pork with vegetables and wonderful Mom made sauce for main course. Monten as we call her, also has hand painted all the porcelain for Christmas table.
The ordeal was reading the gospel from St.Luke 2. My brother sitting on my father's place took over my father's task.
He even read the "extended" version to verse 20, like my father would always do.
The torch was delivered on, my dad had taken over in 1961, when my grandpa had recently passed away.
We knew we all would shed a tear at that moment. Sorrow is the price of having loved. I was willingly paying that sum.For dessert; rice cream and cloud berries with a hidden almond in it. The finder gets a marchpane pig for a winning price.
el found the almond, Serina was delivered the pig. Last year she got it from my father. In nineteen years she has never had the luck to find the almond herself. The saying is unlucky at games makes lucky at love.
After the washing up is done and I have had my daily rest; time for opening the gifts. Gunnar is trying out some new gadgets. The Mighty Mouse.
An angle from Ruby was highly appreciated. Christmas coffee set handpainted by Monten.
Too much of everything is wonderful. My hand spun and hand knitted dress origins from 1974, when I was twenty kilos younger.
Chaos is unavoidable, even though we were only five adults. Guess I would miss it, if only checks were passed around.
My mother also shares the same thrill of the unexpected. From midst November when she changed her mind about Christmas celebration she knitted four pairs of woolen socks and one tiny black scarf, crouched a big tablecloth(Serina), kitchen curtains(aunt Lilly), two pairs of potholders(Sigrid) and small table table mats for her dear friend Aile. She then washed and decorated the house, made all the special purchases of Season groceries with not even her car to help her. She's huge. "I can manage anything if I'm only allowed to work," is her slogan.
Serina with a small selection of presents.
First Christmas Day has always been my favorite. The tension and hurrays are over, now is time for enjoying each other's company, read the welcome book gifts, watch feel good DVDs eat, play card games, totally relaxed and contented.
Tough Monten is looking victoriously over her successful work.
Serina wanted to return to Haugesund to party with a bunch of old friends New Year's Eve. The old Nisse man from her childhood is getting a good hug.
Grandma has taught Serina a special art of crouching, called hacking. She proudly demonstrates her new skills at home.
Sundown at Cross Hill on New Year's Eve. The sun has risen a cock's inch from December 21 st, my grandma used to proclaim. We are heading towards spring, and still having Serina with us for another few days.
It has been a most special and memorable Christmas to all of us. We feel tighter knitted than ever. So thankful for having each other and our anchor safely placed in the cradle and the cross.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.
Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Alfred Lord Tennyson