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/

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/

Songs my mother taught me # 9

Air, snow and a carpet beater.

 Since my mother didn't have a washing machine or a vacuum cleaner when I was a very active and curious toddler, she had to think before throwing clothes to wash.
She had different ways of stain removing based upon the origin of the stain. Her thumb-finger rule was, always be quick to remove a stain. Don't let it fasten. Try cold water, no soap, first, except from fat, which can only be removed by hot water. Be sure to check out what the fabric can take from soap, heat e.t.c. If you don't know, make a try on a place where it can not be seen, if you should fail. A newspaper or even better a blotting-paper and a hot iron will suck up stains from candlelights. If you let the stain soak for awhile (over night) it will be easier to remove. Never, ever soak wool, it will shrink.(Thanks Mrs. Mac.)
My mother would always hang a used garment out for venting, even if it wasn't stained. Clothes and bed linens were "blowing in the wind" every day, summer and winter.  

Heavier items, like carpets and cushions were thrown into snow and beaten with a carpet beater, while they were dragged around in the white, snowy garden. They were turned and tossed and I remember my Dad had to carry them into the house, when he came home from the office. The arm chairs got a similar treatment on the veranda outside our living-room. No vacuumer could replace the snow and the beater. The chairs were eventually moved into my brother's room. We got to keep our rooms long after we left home. My parents would insure us, we were always welcome home, often bringing guests as well. The arm chairs were upholstered at least four times. Here sort of in between redressing.
Serina and I are busy wrapping Christmas gifts while bro Kel is in his favourite position, reading.

  

  Gunnar and I have help washing our home due to disabilities. They do not do carpet or cushion beating though. We still have to manage that piece on our own. It's actually frightening to see how much dust is left even after vacuuming.

Not much snow, but it does the job for the plaid and cushions.

Songs my Mother taught me # 8

I shot this picture almost two years ago.Gunnar was about to shovel snow from the veranda, my mother meant she could manage that herself.
My mother had been severely ill several times after nursing my father for five year. She had a stroke, had a severe heart failure, broke an arm and a hip and she had anxiety attacks. Even so she loved staying at home, there was her place on earth. Nurses came four times a day, she didn't like it, but that was the price she had to pay to live among the things she had created. The nurses didn't always understand her, but my mother demanded the right to be herself. She spoke the dialect of her birthplace, she had her Christian belief and her Bible would always lie on the coffee table. " I am a simple farmer girl, I love to dig in the garden, to watch things grow, and I like a good laughter, " she would tell the doctor, when he advised her to take it easy.
I think she's having a great time in heaven, being allowed to help out in God's own garden.
Perhaps she's exchanged some words with old Shakespeare too.She sure lived the way he preached.

"This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!"


Photo  © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Songs my Mother taught me # 6

Bicarbonate of soda, baking soda, (Natron)

" How do I use thee?
I can`t count the ways…
You scrub my tub, pre-soak my clothes
Freshen my fridge, won`t scratch stoves;
Eat odors in sneakers and diaper pails
Soothe bites and burns to stop kids` wails.
All this without harming our earth,
You give far more than my money`s worth." 
- Jane Fraser, Picton, Canada

The best waffles are made with baking soda, flour, sugar and sour cream.
My mother's recipe.

2 cups of thick sour cream
1/2 cup of sugar
A pinch of vanilla
2 eggs
A hint ( in Norwegian a knife's point) of salt
2 -3 table spoons of melted butter
Flour or spelt to make the batter thick enough, I'd say 3 or 4 cups
1 tea spoon of baking soda.
Let the  batter rest for 30 minutes so that the baking soda may work. 
If the batter is too thick add some lukewarm water, not milk.

The first thing my Mom did when recovering after her first brain stroke was making me waffles. She knew, it's the one thing I can't resist.

My Mom taught me to use baking soda (Natron) to get whiter teeth.
Just yesterday I found the same advice on the Internet.
Too much stomach acid is neutralized by baking soda.
It helps faster, more efficient and has little side effects  .
The expensive ones Gunnar were prescribed were not half as good, and had severe side effects.

My Mom in her last weeks on earth would over and over again ask for Natron for her gastritis. They gave her pills with none effect whatsoever. I bought a package of baking soda. The pains vanished.
My Mom had used baking soda for years and years. Our doctor says the salt in bicarbonate may bind water in the body. My Mom never had a problem with that. 

ME patients often have a slow digestion. Baking soda helps.
Why is it not more often recommended by doctors? My suggestion is, it is probably too cheap for the pharmacy giants.

Just now, when trying to find a good answer to Laureen, I found this Wikipedia article. Many pros and a few cons.
Read it.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sodium_bicarbonate

Somgs my Mother taught me # 5

Sleeping time
"I can endure anything if I only can sleep,"my Mom used to say. 
"There's a lot of healing in a good night's sleep," went another of her sayings.
In spite of that, we are a family where the females are affected by insomnia.
"Never think going to bed with cold feet", was rule # 1. 

Warm socks are a good solution. Mom making socks for the entire family Christmas 2011. She used left over yearn and would always knit the heels with double thread.

Hot water bottle, electric mattress heater, or even better; a soft adjustable electric blanket makes the bed inviting.
That is definitely a must. The bed must be a relaxing, welcoming place to be. Soft pillows, a thick feather duvet, a bottle of water, reading glasses and a pile of good books. For harsh nights I have added my own remedy; Astrid Lindgren's videos. They mellow my mind and focus thoughts on happy memories.

 The sleep of the righteous after a long day's work.

My parents would also ALWAYS  read one or two prayers and a homemade one, summing up the day and place it all in the hands of the Lord.
They had a book from which they read one or two chapters before we went to sleep.We got to choose the books.
In Norway in the early fifties there was housing shortage. That meant that we had tenants living upstairs like everyone else in the valley. 
That was a good thing to me. I shared bedroom with my brother till I was 7, and we really had a good time singing, guessing riddles and making noice in general before falling to sleep. 
People need people. I've always pitied babies being placed in a room of their own. Especially when the parents are telling not to go and look after when a baby cry." He's just being difficult, wanting  to get up". 
Goodness, gracious me, little children are not monsters. If they cry, they have needs, and should not be taught, that crying doesn't help.

My Mother taught me that. She practiced learning by doing.
Good routines before bedtime are a must both for adults and children.
No TV or homework the last hour before bedtime. A light meal with a mug of hot chocolate or milk & honey to drink.
Tidying up, folding the day away, half an hour on the bath, circling down to the bed.
Then the songs, the lullabies.  
Funny thing is, in Norway many choose on of the famliar lullabies for funerals too. They are so comforting.

 

This was one of my mother's favorite bed time songs.

Songs my Mother taught me # 4

The more I reflect I see how influenced I am by the many little details my mother taught me, nor by preaching, but by doing.
Nowadays we can buy fresh flowers imported from all over the world 12 months a year. When I grew up most store flowers were grown in Norwegian greenhouses. January was a rather naked month, the Christmas decorations were boxed away and outdoors snow and naked trees as long as the eye could see.
"Now I go outdoors and fetch the spring indoors," my Mom would say, wading in the snow towards the Forsythia shrubs.
Then, as a yearly, smiling refrain; " the only specie to blossom on a naked twig."  
January first is the day I fight the frost to harvest some Forsythia twigs for me and my friends.A week after the first buds and a few blossoms sprung.
I have spring in my kitchen!

Photo and poem © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Songs my Mother taught me #3

Here we go around a juniper bush is a Christmas feast song where the children are singing about laundry. So do we do when we wash our cloths, rinse our cloths, hand up our cloths, roll our cloth, iron our cloth, wash our floor and go to church and home again.
Laundry was supposed to be done Monday morning, or late Sunday evening really. My mother was constant about keeping the Sunday holy, but before bedtime Sunday night she would put very dirty clothes to soaking the night over, likewise the whitewash to cook the night over. Next day she would scrub by hand every single item and put them over in rinse tanks, 3 at least, before hanging it out to dry in open air. 

 My mother had two children in 15 months and an endless row of diapers.
There was no folding, there were stretching, rolling and ironing. 
Except for wool of course.
My mother taught me how to handle wool. Later on when we too had washing machine and dry tumbler, she would never, ever put wool in a machine. Even the bought wool under wear was washed by hand. Why??

 Till her last year at home my mother preferred drying under open air to tumbler. She fell, of course, but that did not stop her.

Wool is both strong and delicate at the same time. If you wash it in say, warm water and rinse it in cold water, which will happen in a machine, it will inevitably shrink. Wool must be washed and rinsed in the same lukewarm temperature.
If you shrub, rub or centrifugate a wool jumper it will shrink, get knotty and out of shape.

Outside the home where I grew up in my red sweater.

After you have gently crushed and squeezed the wool garment, clean in mild, liquid soap or shampoo,rinse it at least three times in water of the same temperature. Never use fabric softener, but you may need a teaspoon of 7% vinegar if you are afraid the colors will bleed.
Then find a bath towel, lay e,t,c, the pullover on  the towel, fold and roll it hard till its about dry. Especially jumpers should be dried lying. If you hang them, they tend to go out of shape. When dry, you may steam iron gently with a cloth between the iron and the jumper.
Some yearn says the are mashinewashable, believe me, they are not. Some machines claim to have a wool program. Believe me, it doesn't work.
How can I be so persistent? Because I didn't listen to my mother and ruined beautiful, home knitted garments.
Even at the home where my mother spent her last months they managed to ruin a beautiful, bought 500 dollars jacket of wool and silk. In a machine.
I've chosen to illustrate my point by showing a red jumper my mother knitted to me when I was two years old.

Mr. Nisse likes reading. Like me he's fond of John Cowart's books. And the sweater is still red. 

I used it till I grew out of it, then I passed it to toddler Serina and some years thereafter the youlenisse (Santa Claus Norwegian style) was dressed up in the same sweater.
He's still going strong. the jumper had 60 years jubilee this winter.

Since the jumper is red I also sign this up for Ruby Tuesday 2. 

 Photo and poem © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Songs my Mother taught me #2

My mother actually came to my birthplace, Sauda, to help out a friend. There she fell in love with my father, married and settled down. They loved each other dearly all of their days, but there was a but. My mother never really adjusted to the strange scenery of Sauda, situated at the end of a narrow fjord, surrounded by steep mountains. She would always long home to Jaeren, where sea and sky are meeting, where she could dream of The Land of Elves by sunset time.

 I want to go home and see a sundown at Jaeren
 
My mother loved the color blue, blue sky, blue sea, blue flowers, blue clothes.. and she had the most wonderful blue eyes.

Drink drinks of cold water

Once she decided that her gray brick walled washroom needed some color. She jumped on her cycle and bought a beautiful, expensive, blue mural painting. The work was finished before my father came home from work, and the result was rather dark and gloomy.
I guess we all laughed at her, but that didn't stop my mother.

Under the tap crane, Be prepared.
 With white paint and a old brush she painted songs, birds, flowers and funny verse and thus made her washroom both funny and so very personal. Gunnar saw the art in her work and shot lots of photos with his old camera.

 Innocent as doves
Gunnar made us stop laughing and see what a brave, creative soul my mother really was. we were used to her painting elaborate flowers and birds on fine china. I guess she took us by surprise, and she won.

 Up under the roof. "Seagull just tell what you see."

While decorating the room, she never spoke a word. We were busy outside in the bright summer garden.

 Jesus in the wash cellar  
Naivism at it's best. Honest and made in a hurry. I love it.

 Look at the birds, they do not harvest.

What did I learn? If you fail, don't give up, be brave and smile to the world and the world will be smiling back. 

Norwegian Christmas Carols # 19

I love this version of the old Norwegian Christmas Psalm "From Fjord to Seashore, from Mountain to Valley deep."
I am actually a bit low today. My Mom has been buried.
She loved  Christmas and especially the Christmas Hymns, so to honor her, I take time to blog one more Norwegian Psalm.
A special lady is singing and I also very much enjoy the pictures.
Here's the Norwegian lyrics.

Fra fjord og fjære

Fra fjord og fjære
fra fjell og dypen dal
et «Ære være!»
I dag gjenlyde skal.
Fra kirketårne
i fryds basuner støt
for Guds enbårne
som er i dag oss født;
nu er vi kårne,
nu er vi frelst av nød!


Til kirken samle
seg fra hver gård og grend
de unge, gamle,
av kvinner og av menn!
Vi ønsker eder
så glad en julefest,
Guds rikes gleder,
Guds fred i Jesus best;
hos hver som greder,
Vår Herre selv vær gjest!

Ha takk, som treder
til armods hytter ned!
Ha takk, som gleder
oss med din søte fred!
Kom inn, o Kriste,
tenn lys i hvermanns gård,
la isen briste,
gi varme snart og vår,
la ingen miste
hva godt din fødsel spår!

Tekst: M.B. Landstad
Melodi: H.O.C. Zinck

Christmas Carols # 13

On St. Lucia Day, December 13 th, my Mom went to heaven in wonderful peace.
St. Lucia is a Sicilian Saint celebrated in Lutheran Sweden and Norway with children singing, carrying candles and bringing buns to family and neighbors.
A perfect Homecoming Day.



As Gunnar and I arrived the Home today to follow our Mom on her last journey, the hall was filled with happy kindergarten children singing Santa Lucia.

 

Christmas Carols # 12

I'm sharing my Christmas Carols with you while Christmas melodies are filling the air here in my mother's room. She's had a stroke, and no one knows what the outcome will be. There's no doubt she's listening and enjoying the familiar songs.

1. Thy little ones, dear Lord, are we,
And come Thy lowly bed to see;
Enlighten every soul and mind,
That we the way to Thee may find.
2. With songs we hasten Thee to greet,
And kiss the dust before Thy feet;
O blessed hour, O sweetest night,
That gave Thee birth, our soul's delight.
3. O draw us wholly to Thee, Lord,
Do Thou to us Thy grace accord,
True faith and love to us impart,
That we may hold Thee in our heart.
4. Until at last we too proclaim
With all Thy saints, Thy glorious Name;
In paradise our songs renew,
And praise Thee as the angels do.

Notes:
Regarding "Her kommer, Jesus, dine små", this is the title in the modern lyrics of the song in Norway. The title translates as "Here Come, Jesus, Your Little Ones". Originally, however, it was called "Her kommer dine arme små", which translates as "Here Come  Your Little Poor(*) Ones" (*: or helpless). However, in Norwegian "arm" meaning poor or helpless is a very antiquated form, and the word "arm" also means arm (the limb) - for kids it was probably a bit confusing to sing a Christmas carol about a lot of little arms coming. Therefore the alteration of the lyrics.

These are not my notes, but some I found on the Internet. A great Christmas story is written about a little boy believing he was singing about the small arms. Some day, before I'm getting too old, I must have it translated. I'd love to share it.

http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/NonEnglish/her_kommer_jesus_dine_sma.htm

Good days after this?

My Mom four days ago. Today she fell, broke her arm, injured her eye.

I woke up sweating,
My breath was short from running.
From dreams and mares of reality.
His soothing voice was rhythmically sounding:
"There will be good days after this."


How can you tell;
She lied there screaming,
Her arm was broken and her eye was bleeding?
He hid his face, but the kept repeating;
"There will be good days after this."


I can foresee tomorrow,
A movie still rerunning; of horrors,cries,
Of helpless agony and endless nights of black isolation,
You failing angel, why did you slumber, I need a wonder;
"Will there be good days after this?"


I am no prophet,
I need relay on promises, kept  step by step,
Nothing any more  of cruelty hidden behind a mirror darkly.
Walk with us upon the water, stretch out your hands;
We will need good days after this.