This has definitely been a season when I have learned to seize the moment. Midst in storm, rain, family losses, illness and terror on Norwegian soil, I have had wonderful hours of beauty, sun and tranquillity. More than any-time before I value everyday life, with all its blessings and wonders. Like these double soapwort plants I learned to know for the first time, at our favourite beach on the island. The bouquet was lying on my side of the dashboard as we were leaving after a relaxing afternoon. They smell wonderfully,- like soap and I am now waiting for the flowers to set seed for my herb garden next year.
Painting white houses and red boathouses is an unwritten rule all along the coastline. The old fishermen and farmers also had an eye for beauty. Here at a pit stop on the long, but unique road from my Mom to Haugesund.
Late evenings and spectacular sundowns are Nordic summer specials. Who on earth would want to go to bed while the nature is playing its colourful summer rhapsodies?
Or when the silvery moon tells secrets from faraway solar systems to the sea and the wind in the dark, velvet nights.
Daughter Serina is fading away from a turbulent summer to her last semester at Volda. She had to grow up in a hurry, working for the second largest TV network in Norway the weeks around 7.22.
She will be doing fine. God bless her and protect her on her 12 hour long road trip which she's about to embark on, while I am writing.
These past weeks life has been a bit too much to all of us.
My mother severely injured after a nasty fall , my aunt and uncle dead within a week, over night visits from favourite cousin Arne and friends of Serina; a looping rollercoaster. Still there's a funural to attend to, while Serina is keeping my mother with company.
After that I shall take the round and thank each and everyone of you who have prayed for us and shared encouraging words.
I know that is why we are still able to find some breathing holes, like this one on the terrace with sweet Amidala.
Ephesians 5:16 was one of my father's favourites and has also become one of mine. Particularly the words about "redeeming the time".
While looking for a usable English translation of these words, I stumble over a net place called Biblos.com. They explain redeeming the time like this:
"Redeeming the time - The word rendered here as "redeeming," means "to purchase; to buy up" from the possession or power of anyone; and then to redeem, to set free - as from service or bondage; notes."
We have bee through some really rough waters the eight days. First my mother's youngest sister Henny died at the age of 82. The my mother had the secon severe fall in a month. This time down the outdoor concrete stairs. We were met here on the city hospital and she was thoroughly examined till about midnight. No broken bones, and my mother decided she would return home to Sauda. Gunnar and I of course followed. Kind of blessing in disguise; my mother accepted more help from public home nursing. They now come twice a day and bring hot food four times a week.
Back in Haugesund Serina returned from her summer job in Bergen.
Yesterday we read that this was the last Sunday our favourite cafe was to stay open. On our way to town we called my Sister in law and her daughter, who also happened to be home from her studies.
The four of us spent four hours in the cafe. The lovely coffee-house owner gave us cookies and home made confect to go when we left.
Today we got the sad news that my mother's little brother, 84, had died during the night.
Serina and I are off to my Mom, while Gunnar is keeping the fortress here in Haugesund.
How lucky I am for the four hours of healing redeeming time at the cafe yesterday.
Thanks to niece Kristine Marina and SIL Sigrid for being the there with us, and sending the pictures yesterday evening.
One late summer evening last week there finally came some hints of blue on the sky. We immediately saddled up for a local photo safari, armed with coffee, chocolate buns and cameras. I'd never had a close look on this particular church before. It's built in 1938; thorough Art Deco style. From this special angel I found it had a Kreml-ish wild mix about it. I must return for further exploration of the inside. The stained glass windows look interesting. Makes me wonder what the architect has done with the ceiling. Don't you like finding treasures like this just " around the corner of your home"?
The composer Harald Severud had a nephew, who for a while was teaching piano in my home-town Sauda back in the early sixties. Once his famous uncle came and explained the background for this mighty piano piece. Back in 1942, while Norway was occupied by the Germans and the Nazi terror was at its worst, Severud felt overcome by both anger and powerlessness. His father had strongly forbidden his boy to swear, so even as an adult this was not an option. Instead he composed this mighty Kjempeviseslott, "Ballad of Revolt", which for ever has stood as a symbol of resistance to injustice and terror. I never learned to play the piano, but I never forgot this concert from my early youth. These days this "protest music" once more help channelling my emotions. Thought I'd like to share.
This poem (it's not actually a hymn) and this very scene melted my frozen heart. I needed that special song to get my ice converted to tears and leave my body.
Goodbye Norway's roses May you ever grow in our hearts You were the grace that placed itself Where lives were torn apart.
After Elton John
I shall not comment much on what is going on in my heart. Just this; People are marching tonight, filling the streets of Norway with roses in their hands. A survivor of the massacre said, "If one man can do so much cruelty; how much more love don't we have to give, to conquer evil?"
A warm and heartfelt thank you, for the mails and greetings on my blogthese last tragic days in the history of Norway.
My inside froze to a thick ice block when Serina sms'ed from Bergen quay; "A bomb is just exploded in the government quarters in Oslo. She came directly from work in a TV station to meet us for a jolly weekend in beautiful Rosendal. We had booked room in the most expensive hotel there, and bought theatre tickets to was an English Shakespeare Company perform the merry "Much Ado about Nothing" played at Rosendal Barony.
I immediately went into defence. "I don't want the TV on. It's those Muslim terrorists. We never should given refuge to those bastards." I curled down on the bed, while Gunnar and Serina watched their iPhones in silence. We dressed up and went to the performance together with a flock of cultivated ostriches. The hall was packed and we all applauded and laughed at the right places.
After a better late dinner we returned to our room. I closed my eyes, the other flipped their phones. Gunnar said in a soft voice, "But it weren't the Muslims; it was a blond, beautiful, well trained arch Aryan and Neo-Nazi. It did not make me feel better, but I still kept my silence. At 3 a.m. I asked Serina to turn off her cell phone and light- I could not sleep. Neither could my poor daughter.
The following day we followed our precious plans. We went to an art exhibition and toured the park and manor of Rosendal. People were buzzing all around us. I simply denied to let me be dragged into the blood thirsty sensationalism, and let my inner ice block grow.
We separated; Serina to Bergen, we to Haugesund. From my safe bed I watched some short news clippings, and went into stupor. Safe, silent, motionless coma. I listened the speech of our King Harald. I love our king. "Attack against democracy, against the unarmed, peaceful life in our beloved Norway. We shall and will not have this. We must not yield to fear nor to hatred." I nodded and slept further, emotionally exhausted.
The thing about Norway is, when tragedy hits, we all turn to the church. 80,7 % are members of the church of Norway, but the church opens its doors to anyone. It's the ministers, not the police who are the messengers of unexpected deaths. In any crisis team you will find doctors, nurses, psychologists and ministers. Few hours after the bombing people begun bringing flowers and candles in front of Oslo Cathedral. They kept coming and coming and coming.During last night there was a heavy rain. Some made it their duty to keep the lights burning all night. When the dawn came the candles were still burning. There was a memorial service in the Oslo Cathedral this morning. The members of the Royal Family were present, so was the Prime Ministers, the Government and the rest of the 1000 seats were open to any citizen who wanted. They started queuing at 9 a.m. Worthy and quiet. There were not "airport checking of the mourners. Not metal detectors or body visitations. This was our nations counter attack. Not to be overpowered by evil, but with burning candles and common church service go on with our lives as we have done till now. Or even, hopefully better. I dosed in my bed while the service went on, but sat upright as the whole congregation song one of the songs I love the most, and have sung for Serina from she was a child. For the youth. Suddenly my inward ice melted, and I sung along, while my tears flooded.
For a Daughter who leaves A woman weaves her daughter's wedding slippers that will carry her steps into a new life. The mother weeps alone into her jeweled sewing box slips red thread around its spool, the same she used to stitch her daughter's first silk jacket embroidered with turtles that would bring luck, long life. She remembers all the steps taken by her daughter's unbound quick feet: dancing on the stones of the yard among yellow butterflies and white breasted sparrows. And she grew, legs strong body long, mind independent. Now she captures all eyes with her hair combed smooth and her hips gently swaying like bamboo. The woman spins her thread from the spool of her heart, knotted to her daughter's departing wedding slippers
Our Queen Amidala isn't happy at all. She has given birth to five beautiful kittens this spring. After 8 weeks of struggling to become a good mother, her kittens were given to three good homes. As a "reward", Amidala was castrated, and totally confused when the tomcats began pieing and mewing again. She fought them all back from her territory with great skill and courage. She and Serina bonded easily when the latter came home for a short vacation . Then it was crying time again, Serina packed all night while the rain was pouring down. At 6 in the morning we were exhausted and decided to get some sleep, while Amidala went out to do whatever cats do at that time of day. It was still damp and wet all over the terrace and garden. Can't you hear her complaining ; "I am not amused."
Exodus 14:14 The LORD will fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace. (Hebrew Bible in English.)
It takes great self-control to unwillingly be in a "combat zone", have the most evil and poison weapons at hand, and still be told to hold my peace. Serina uses to say, "It's a good thing Norway has such a strict fire arm control, mamma. If you had a gun, you would have used it."
Oh, how she has revealed my weaknesses over and over again. The Almighty knows me even better, and in some funny, unreasonable way He loves me after all. He has created me, He knows I am dust, and He still cares, even to counting every hair on my head.
Now He has told me, He'll do the fighting and I shall hold my peace. I clearly can see, there's a lot of praying ahead. Peace be with us all.
Isaiah 48: 18 Oh that thou wouldest hearken to My commandments! then would thy peace be as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea;
Somehow the lavender has had a good summer. Maybe because it's a late bloomer?
The chives are still alive and kicking, even after the hardest snail attack. My rhubarb has not been harvested. I need something rich to look at. The thyme is barely alive after king winter's gruesome garden slaugther in March. Black frost is lethal this far north. The red currants are about to ripen.
Today's the third sunny day in a row. Record. A bit cold though, I've got to wear my garden gnom jacket about 8 p.m. The black currants are also looking promising.
The table is made by Gunnar and has endured 18 Nordic outdoor winters. Now it's serving wine and roses.
ALL PHOTOS BY GUNNAR.
She's standing by the rhododendrons Where the roses are in bloom Looking out at the Atlantic ocean And in her head she hums this tune
Thank God the dark nights are drawing in again cos high summer has got me down Can we wait till the end of august And get off this merry-go-round
I don't agree with Van Morrison, but I kind of like his words & music.
This June we had 200 % more rain than the average Junes. July doesn't seem to become better. These pictures were taken on our terrace at 06 a.m. Sunday morning. I rest my case.
Till recently Norway had but one TV Channel, the NRK. Anybody owning a TV set in Norway still has to pay tax to the National broadcasting.
This summer they made a unique "show", following the famous Hurtigruten from Bergen to Hammerfest for 5 1/2 day. No news break, no commercials, no entertainment on board; just the boat sailing zig zaging along the laced coastline of Norway. I've chosen this out-take from Tromso to honour my friend Sonja. It's the home-town of her mother.
Need I say that the show was a mega hit among Norwegians, with reruns ever after it was first broadcasted this early June. Yes, we may be weird, but we love each mountain peak and fjord arm of this country.
I read a post by Steve E "Alone and Loneley". I think many of us can relate to that feeling; being alone midst in a crowd. One of my favorite poems, as a very young teenager,was about this topic, written by the poet, Sigbjorn Obstfelder. (Wikipedia link here). I searched the Internet for a possible English translation and found it on YouTube.
Daniele Sepe - Jeg ser - I see - Vedo - ENG - ITA SUBBED
I see, I see I'm looking at the sky Grey clouds are covering the sun So this is the world Without time nor boundaries The home of all heavenly bodies Then I see Houses Bell towers And fields in the distance So this is the earth, Where everything grows, The home of mankind, Then I see Well dressed gentlemen. Children riding on a carousel, And an elegant Lady, Further on Someone is beginning for a stale piece of bread, I think something doesn't work On this planet. I see, I see, I must have come to the wrong globe, Here is so weird.
Edvard Munch painted the Scream about the same time as Obstfelder wrote his poem. They were related souls.
We haven't had much of a summer so far. About averagely 50 Fahrenheit degrees in June and 200 % more rain than normal. We normally have our fair share of rain anyway. This dark red boat has stranded in an ocean of flowers blowing in the wind. The prognosis for July hasn't improved. The water magazines are full, so we can supply sunny, southern Europe with cheap renewable power. Renewable being the key word. There's more rain to come. Happy summer to those who have one. Also; happy 4th of July to my American friends.
Bob Dylan, 70, rocked 14 000 Bergeners, one sweet girl from Finland and yours truly from here to eterity.
I've never heard him better, rocking and rolling, twisting and turning the best from his 50 year long production. He connected with the band, like they were one soul.
And he smiled, smiled all the time. He connected with the audience like I never have experienced it before.
My only problem was my old, outdated Nokia. Photographing was prohibited, but I sweet talked one of the guard crew, saying this old cell phone is good for nothing.
So sad it turned out to be true. Gunnar, Serina and I have attended Dylan concerts since Serina was 2 years old. We hope to continue this tradition for at least ten, if not twenty more years. wouldn't that be wonderful; Dylan 90 and us 80?
The rest was perfect in spite of 51, 8 Fahrenheit degrees and splashing rain.
Maybe the old heart got soft when he entered the stage after 2 hours (waiting & Susan Vega). anyway he opened with Rainy day Women # 12 & 35, and from there it only got better. I, I had gold circle place, nothing but a low fence and the stage between me and the Master.
I am praying that Dylan must find his way home again.
This evening we went out to revisit places from Serina's childhood. The pictures are fresh from the oven. Shot just two hours ago.
I cannot name the midsummer bouquet in English. The red one is called St. Hans flower, equinox flower, in Norwegian. There's also Valerian root, which smells so wonderfully, and is said to turn around midsummer night.
At Aksnes beach; Serina is picking sea shells where we let her meet the sea for the first time 22 years ago. Midsummer meadow; or angel meadow, as the Swede poet Taube called it. The time is about 23 b.m. and the sun is setting.
Lifeline by the beach. Red clovers growing by the beach.
St. Hans flower also close to the salty waters.
Sea weed
Lobster
Dusk after sundown.
North west dusk It's dark and just a few meters from home. A deer calf is out seeking for water; bad, but rare shot.
Some rare day a person does get me out of the blue, catches my feelings and gives them a name. Like this busy home nurse I called out today to help with my mother's medication. She was not much younger than me. She came in a hurry on a busy Sunday, (they're always half staffed on Holidays), smiling even though I had been grumpy on the phone. She even took time to say some encouraging words after I had tried to excuse myself. "I know how it is," she soothed," I have a mother on 87 myself. I have four sisters living out of town. When they come visiting it's coffee, flags and celebration. I am the everyday daughter. I'm always supposed to be here, and it's fine with me." I nodded. It's fine with me too.
After having had several broken bones incidents due to my osteoporosis, amongst other two compression fractures in the spine, I felt like my body had kind of let me down, deserted me. Pills, doctors, physiotherapists were of no help at all. Till I met with my Feldenkrais instructor, Lolomai Selso. Once a week we have been working for an hour, and I actually felt better from the first lesson, a year and a half ago. Lately I have not been very nice to my back. Garden work isn't for sissies. Now I'm on my second week of baby crawling. A cure for the back, 7x7x7. Seven minutes, seven days a week for seven week. Opposite to this baby, my crawling is supposed to be done slow and in a diagonal rhythm. That is Left hand and right foot moves together. Thereby both left and right brain hemisphere are stimulated simultaneously. It's simple, it's free and it only requires seven minutes a day.
This has definitely been a season when I have learned to seize the moment. Midst in storm, rain, family losses, illness and terror on Norwegian soil, I have had wonderful hours of beauty, sun and tranquillity. More than any-time before I value everyday life, with all its blessings and wonders. Like these double soapwort plants I learned to know for the first time, at our favourite beach on the island. The bouquet was lying on my side of the dashboard as we were leaving after a relaxing afternoon. They smell wonderfully,- like soap and I am now waiting for the flowers to set seed for my herb garden next year.
Painting white houses and red boathouses is an unwritten rule all along the coastline. The old fishermen and farmers also had an eye for beauty. Here at a pit stop on the long, but unique road from my Mom to Haugesund.
Late evenings and spectacular sundowns are Nordic summer specials. Who on earth would want to go to bed while the nature is playing its colourful summer rhapsodies?
Or when the silvery moon tells secrets from faraway solar systems to the sea and the wind in the dark, velvet nights.
Daughter Serina is fading away from a turbulent summer to her last semester at Volda. She had to grow up in a hurry, working for the second largest TV network in Norway the weeks around 7.22.
