I guess that's what I'm trying to do with my blog.Writing about those days that are my life.
Not many knows that the copper the Statue of Liberty is made of comes from Norway. A French owned copper mine near Haugesund provided all the material for the giant gift from France.Aunt Lilly's husband worked in that copper mine all his life. Now he's dead and the mine has since long been turned into a museum.
The statue I'm posing by,is an American silicon replica brought over the Atlantic by Norwegian/American fishermen.
The great Skypainter doing a new masterpiece by the Whale.The district where we live is called Whaleae. Maybe after the formation on the ness or because the bay was used to catch whales in long, long time ago.
May 10th friend Turid celebrated her 60th birthday in a chocolatespa in Riga.The rest of the Gang of Four went up to decorate her house for her homecomming.
Aunt Lily has been hospitalized once more. An inflammation in her forehead forces her to use strong medication, cortisone, but she keeps smiling and is a source of joy to all of us.
My herb garden is already sprung into flowers. Fresh cut in salad they are healthbombs.
My two garden angles and a frog waiting for a kiss to turn into the prince on a white horse.
Flower girl under the clematis, God's own garden curtains.
At the peak of Haugesund's tallest mountain. my legs were aching for three days afterwards. To my left the third biggest glacier of Norway, Folgefonna may be vaguely spotted.
God's summer curtains from our livingroom.
The lilies and tulips from may are long gone. The Forget-me-nots are still praying their humble wish.
The Rhododendron is flooding over the terrace. 
The Clematis,the Redbells and the Icelandic lava are almost hiding the steps up to the terrace. 
Gunnar looking for food after a late "sundown tour".
When Norwegian eyes are smiling. At Sola beach hotel, waiting for dinner and Bob Dylan.
The hotel is a well hidden local secret. Here a wedding feast just outside the dining room. Wonder if Jim's son ever was here? It even has a small golfcourse.
This was the third Bob Dylan concert Gunnar, Serina and I attended together. First when she was three, second a her age of fourteen, and this time she was twenty. Nice tradition we intend to follow as long as the never ending tour keeps rolling.
Serina having a good time in the middle of a rather civilized crowd, in her own words.I was rather annoyed with the drunken young monkey men.I managed to shuffle them away though and give them a suitable elbow while stumbling on.
Gunnar, all calm and focused,but never letting his daughter out of sight.
Dylan played for two hours, so cool jazzing and rocking the time out of mind.He was in a remarkable good mood, even did encores.
The beach outside our hotel window.I cannot think of a better lullaby than the rhythmic rolling of the sea.
Half of me is from this landscape, Jaeren. We had to visit the Old Vicarage at Haa. There're always interesting exhibitions in the mighty stone age grave landscape.
Norwegian and Russian fairytales were themes this summer.
The new barn had weird weavings displayed for sale. 
Outside no shore, but roll stone graves from the stone age.Dylan is right again, no moss on a rolling stone.
The mighty high sky brilliantly painted.
My mother's favorite brother Leif (they were nine siblings)living in the immediate neighborhood the place he was born.
He and my aunt Olaug are the most hospitable persons I know of. My uncle just out of the hospital and my aunt in severe arthritic pains. No way we were allowed to leave without a proper meal!
Just now Gunnar is working hard to transfer our terrace from shabby to chick before our long advertised garden party.
If the weather will continue to stay so extraordinary warm and sunny, we'll have the day of the year.
