Highly treasured rubbish

For years I thought my beloved dinner plate set from my earliest childhood had been thrown away. 
As far as I can remember this was my special set. The deep plate for porridge and the time I only used a spoon to eat. The flat came later, when I was able to use a fork and even knife and fork together.
Some development for a toddler. 

Image my joy and surprise as I, two years after my mother went to Heaven, was about to empty and clean up my mother's pantry in the basement. The shelves are almost 1 meter deep, and against the wall on the highest shelf stood the two pieces of my dinner set.
I cried from joy and good memories.My mother had taken care of my "heirlooms" and hidden them so that no one could throw them away.
They are worn, torn and rubbish to anyone but me. 

 

The set is produced in Norway. There were actually three stoneware factories in my home county. Now they're all close and the rest of the production shipped out to second class products in China. Even Wedgwood has done that. When I see these plates, I remember a happy family benched around the dinner table, sharing stories about how the day had been. I would complaint that the food was too hot. My Mom would open the window and say, "Food, food, get cold, so Elise can eat you." It worked every time.

I guess I haven't found much rubbish along my hunt, but heaps of good memories. Thanks for setting me off on this hunt, Roan.

I link with Rubbish with Roan. Visit her for more interesting finds.

 http://rubbishbyroan.blogspot.no/

Rubbish wonder

 

We have lived in our house with this somewhat messy garden / jungle for fifteen years. A five meter high tree has been an eye soar to my husband. It bends out over the main road and there's nothing much to it. I have seen birds building nests in the top, the cooling shadow under the tree and I've begged for mercy, begged for it's life.

  

 The main reason and my heaviest argument for letting the tree live, has been the flowers blossoming three weeks in April.Cherry flowers we thought.

  

Under the tree the ground was moist and rare plants like this ramsons , leek from the viking ages, thrive.

Gunnar made me a garden swing there, and I had a good time in my Secret Garden. My friend Anne persuaded me to cut some branches last autumn. "So many that one can throw a hat between the branches."

This autumn strange things began to happen with this ugly duckling.

It's grown even taller than last year, but with much light coming through.

 Gunnar came in from the garden with two green "stones". crab apple, I said. There actually is a crab apple tree near by. The other day Serina and I were out on inspection, and what did we see. Yellow, little plums lying in the grass. We tasted them. They were sweet as only plums can be.

Looking up we saw them, hidden among the leaves. Lots and lots of yellow plums. Turning water into wine counts for nothing, compared to turning a fruitless cherry tree into a bountiful plum tree .
The autumn's greatest joy and surprise.

I link to Rubbish by Roan. Go over and see some other great finds.
 http://rubbishbyroan.blogspot.no/

Rubbish, but lined with gold

 

 The garden shed of my paternal home has a story of its own. It's older than I am, and has served multiple purposes before it ended up as a shabby storing place for lawn movers and old wooden skies.

I still have the hope that it may be saved for future generations.

 

Even though wood is the most common building material in Norway, and we have easy access to wood almost all over the country, there is also a long tradition for reusing building material. Our shed served originally as a double outdoor toilet (no water) for the church to which my parents belonged. It was torn down when indoor plumming was available in the early thirties. However, the material was not torn away, but reclaimed for a hen house by the family who built my  paternal home in 1945. Food was still sold with  rations cards even till the mid fifties, so keeping hen was an ordinary mean of food supply.

 

My parents moved in as the builders emigrated to America in 1951, and since then the house and the shed has belonged to the our family. My mother was not keen on keeping poultry, so the shed became a storage house, and later on, when I was able to play on my own, it became my playhouse. Since the house had two doors (one for men, theo other for women), my friends and I had two semidetached houses and years of fun playing with our dolls, using berries and veggies from the garden as "food" for our "families". 

I guess I played there until I was twelve. 

I was a lucky, happy child.

The flowers are still blooming this second day of September 2014, even though it's been some years now since my mother had her garden tools in the shed.

Standing outside thee door of the shed, I see my mother as in a dream, always busy, always caring.I hope the shed will get a new revival. It so deserves it. Thank you for wonderful memories.

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

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/

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.

http://rubbishbyroan.blogspot.no/

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

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/

Why Bob Dylan came to the church

                                                                                                                                                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.


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.

                                        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.