THEN PLAY ON

Some shots from the broad range of music, vital in our lives.

If music be the food of love, then play on.
William Shakespeare.
From my beloved Sunday School. Yours truly playing guitar, back, third from the left. There was a pinoplayer as well in this joyful assembly.
My mother playing the same guitar just a few years ago. I'm holding her written song book from the 1930ies.
My mother is longing back to her scenery of her birthplace. In the washing basement she has painted a song about her beloved Jaeren.
Serina always attended a ten-sing choir. Lots of fun and lots of work behind their annual shows.
This time they had been allowed to write their own roles. Serina's natural choice was Tinkerbell.
She seems to be a little shy as Drama Queen s acting out.
No 17th of May without the musicians.
Serina cried at her 5th 17th of May celebration. "Oh, what about the flags? Whet about the music sheets of the musicians."
God had mercy. he let the rain stop during the parade.
Salvation Army's band is always walking in front of the school were Gunnar was a teacher and Serina a student.
Serina posing with her favorite rock band. She was interviewed on the local radio, being a "blood fan".
In the crypt of St. Patric Church, Dublin. Original music to Händel's Messiah.
The story , the wonder of how Händel came to write Messiah, and the way it was first performed in Dublin with great help of Dean Jonathan Swift, is one of the most moving "true stories" I know of.
Arena,Verona,Italy 2001. The great Verdi Jubilee, we attended The Nabucco. Va pensiero or The Hebrew Choir still makes my tears flow.
Back then, a warm summer's night with a full moon and the public holding candles.
I know of no word to describe the magic beauty.
Serina, 13, waiting at the Café L'Arena before the concert.
Eleven friends went to London to celebrate the 110th birthday of Turid and Björn.
We all like jazz and went to the 100 club in Oxford Street.
Elisabeth and Haakan of course knew the band from Herring jazz back home.
Bob Dylan in concert, Oslo 2009. A civilized audience were charmed by "His Bobness" playing old and new stuff. The legend on his never ending tour. Go see him while you can!
Aunt Sigrid and her choir in The Church Of Our Savior, Haugesund 2008.

Sinead O'Connor in Vikedal 2008. She was pure Irish magic.
Serina and her cousin Kristine Maria rehearsing flute and piano. Kristine Maria is an educated piano teacher today.

Young Serina admiring dad's instruments, and the Vox in particular.

Serina managed to get an empty petrol barrel from her idols, The Kaizer's Orchestra. It should be played the way she does. With worker's gloves, a crowbar and a gas mask.
In Sauda Church last Christmas. Nothing is dearer than the old Christmas carols, sung together.
Bo Dylan on an outdoor concert in Stavanger last summer. Did the old man rock!
He shook the entire football stadium.
Serina and I walking home after attending a Midsummer night's Dream at Royal Festival Hall, February 2005.
My Cousin Björn Ljung, sun of my late uncle Leif is a poet and a teacher. He wrote a beautiful poem about The Two Old Ones and dedicated it to my father's memory in the local paper.
Jonas Fjeld composed a melody for it and while watching over his father dying in Haugesund Hospital, Björn wrote a refrain for the poem.
This spring Jonas Fjeld and The Chatham County Line from N.C. played in Haugesund Concert Hall. Gunnar and I were invited along with my cousin and his wife. If there ever was a moment of eternity was when they played Björn's song.
Who haven't fallen in love with Mikis Theodorakis and his music. especially Zorba The Greek.
Serina and I fell flat on a Greek restaurant, Serina being 6 years. Later we went to Crete and heard the music of Theodorakis all over the island. In Sauda, the little tiny factory town deep in the Boknafjord we heard Theodorakis live for two years in a row. The Easter of 96 and 97 the composer and conductor himself performed in Melting Hall 3 for 1200 people. Gunnar, Serina and I were there, tucked in scarves, mittens and thick jackets. An experience for life and further on.

Theodorakis dirige Theodorakis à Sauda

RUBY ANTIQUE

Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.

The Baldishol Tapestry (http://www.drakt.org/Baldishol.html)is the oldest made in Norway. Woven in the 12th century. The month April and May is depicted. The original is in a glass mounter in Art and Craft Museum of Oslo. We said hello to it, visiting our capital for the Dylan concert. The copy is embroidered by my mother some 35-40 years ago. Hangs in our living room. Another is in my birth-home. Very good memories attatched to these two guys. I found this picture taken by Gunnar some six years ago. My Dad is drinking water and my Mom has evidently been making food..in my home.
I guess she'd made a staple of her delicious waffles.
Up left is the picture she embroidered.
My Dad died two years ago June first.
I miss him so.

ANNIE'S PRAYER HEADING

THE WILL OF GOD WILL NEVER TAKE YOU
WHERE THE GRACE OF GOD WILL NOT PROTECT YOU.

CONSTANCE'S PRAYER

We pray for what we WANT,
but God we ask You to give us what we NEED!

RUBY WONDERS BY GOD & GUNNAR

Originated by MaryT, check hers for today. Don't forget to wish her happy birthday.

With me being the constant gardener, there's not much time for PC or photography these days.
With the help from God and Gunnar I have some nice garden pictures to serve for this Tuesday.
The tulips are already history for this year.
Some wonder they are though. Three packets of bulbs remain laying of the terrace till February had even started sprouting when they were put in earth.
The red and the lilac rhododendrons are setting our spirits on fire just now. South west of Norway is rhododendron climate. Mild winters and moist springs.
In the background the poppies are lurking while the scarlet rhododendron is whispering good night.
Some late bloomers on the terrace.
Even our Christ Thorn is full of blossoms. Never understand why we don't have the red berries in autumn.
The fur don't have much red in its flower, but is a part of the garden picture.
The Prince Apple tree is promising this year. Hope the bumblebees will soon arrive. I'd love some red apples this fall.
Yours truly admiring the blood beech south east in the garden.
Resting on a red chair under the Swede Apple tree.
God's own summer curtains are covering the windows of our living room. The clematis.


The clematis has worked its way around the corner up on the terrace.
The bell bush is also springing out these days.

I'll let Dylan and Springsteen sing to congratulate Dylan with birthday May 24th and teach Mary with hers May 25th.

RUBY MEN

Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.

Last weekend I attended a school jubilee. 40 years since nursery school. Gunnar as always was my companion and chauffeur. We made a trip to The Old Vicarage. Lots of interesting modern art displayed in the two old barns.
I found Gunnar on the barn-bridge totally absorbed by the view...of a rescue car!
Gunnar has taught me that photo is about curves, angles, light and if possible; action.
One unhappy spectator. How did he manage to drive the car sideways up the barn bridge?
Could the Falcon rescuer manage to tug the car around that narrow corner. Actually, I don't know. The man in orange decided he had to un-hook the truck and try once more from behind. I predicted a never ending story, only suited for enthusiasts.

I returned to the exhibition, and said hello to vehicles suitable for younger men in this farmer district.

RUBY GUITARS

Ars longa vita brevis.
I took about 20 pictures with manual camera handling.
Sunlight, overexposure, sharpness, oh,my!
I ended up with this fragment of my forty years old guitar and her sharp comrade.

I look at you all see the love there thats sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps
I dont know why nobody told you how to unfold your love
I dont know how someone controlled you
They bought and sold you.

I look at the world and I notice its turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps
I dont know how you were diverted
You were perverted too
I dont know how you were inverted
No one alerted you.

I look at you all see the love there thats sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
Look at you all . . .
Still my guitar gently weeps.
George Harrison.

Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.

RUBY SPRING DUST

Husband Gunnar is teaching me to use natural sunlight adding depth, shadows and life to a picture.
Alas I forgot my mother's dust theorem;
"Spring reveals all your hidden sins."

Found this little poem to comfort me..and hopefully you.

Little Cosmic Dust Poem
John Haines

Out of the debris of dying stars
this rain of particles
that waters the waste with brightness..

The sea-wave of atoms hurrying home,
collapse of the giant
unstable guest who cannot stay.

The sun's heart reddens and expands,
his mighty aspiration is lasting,
as the shell of his substance
one day will be white with frost.

In the radiant field of Orion
great hordes of stars are forming.
just as we see every night,
fiery and faithful to the end.

Out of the cold and fleeing dust
that is never and always,
the silence and waste to come.

This arm, this hand,
my voice, your face, this love.

Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.

RUBY TUESDAY SPRING

Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.

Spring to me is first and foremost picking White Anemones. I'm getting reports from family and friends when and where the first ones are spotted.
My mother even once came with an old fashioned milk bucket filled with White Anemones once I lay sick in bed. This Easter Serina brought home a tiny delicate bouquet of Anemones. The flowers are best found by a brooch and under shady trees. Yesterday I found a lot where one had chopped down a whole hillside of old pines. Prices are good for lumber these days.
May red knitted swaeter is from a firm called Oleannna.
Ole Bull, a violinist from last 19th century had a romantic dream of creating a Norwegian state in the USA. Since his first name was Ole, the state was to be named Oleanna. Giant fiasco though.
The knitwear factory is success. Most Norwegian/Americans buy one or two for use over there. That's also the Ruby for this Tuesday.
Sorry about the lousy cellphone quality.

Our most famous composer Edvard Grieg has made a wonderful homage to the spring.
I'd like to share it with you.

SEPIA PEACE

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

In spite of being 100% subjective, mother & photographer, I am bold enough to claim Lord Byron’s poem for this pic.

SEPIA SCENES IS HOSTED BY TEACH MARY

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What big cat are you?

You Are a Snow Leopard

You have learned that you must rely on yourself, and yourself alone, to live a happy life. You are understand the world better than most people you know. You are very perceptive and intuitive. You need lots of space to think. If you don't get the space you need, you're likely to bite someone's head off. Because you are so thoughtful and solitary, people find you to be intense and mysterious. You're even seen as intimidating. What Big Cat Are You? DOUBLE CLOCK ON THE LINE ABOVE TO TAKE THE TEST We've had a good laugh and some interesting discussions, I dare say. Had never thought upon myself like this, but..they might be right.

I FEEL, THEREFORE I BELIEVE I THINK

Je pence, doce je suis, the philosopher Descartes proclaimed.
I've lately learned that people misinterprets feeling for thinking.
Our local newspaper "Haugesunds Avis" leads the way.

We are all appalled by the pictures from Gaza. In detail presented children being massacred.
That the Hispolla is cowardly hiding among civilians, is barely mentioned.
Nor the fact that they have been shooting rockets at Israel for 8 years.

We are shown crying mothers and dead children.
We cry too.

In Afghanistan Norwegian soldiers together with Americans have been killing civilians for years now.
Besides costing us an incredibly amount of money, mainly paid to the war industry, nobody really knows what or why Norwegian soldiers are fighting in Afghanistan.

We never get to see any picture.
We don't feel anything, therefore we don't think anything either.
The censorship is efficiently upheld.
We never even see a picture from a funeral of a dead Norwegian soldier.
So we simply don't think of the hardships young men are enduring in a foreign country.
We need to be informed preferably in pictures or film to be moved, shaken, appalled.
How many civilians lives have been "unintentionally" taken in Afghanistan?
We'll probably never know.
Neither will any bother to ask.

In the Gaza conflict we were flooded by pictures from that three months military intervention at the Gaza strip.
Nobody writing about the history leading up to the tragedy. Of our common guilt.
Just a violent cry for a crucifixion of the Israeli nation.
A local politician called the Israeli army one of the mightiest armies in the world.
There's 7,6 million inhabitants in Israel.

Our brains have been mismanaged with great skill.
Who's gonna give us license to think?

PAASKE- EASTER IN RUBY

Church Of Our Savior. Photo Serina
Norwegian Easter Morning is first Sunday after first full moon after the vernal equinox. This year April 12th. Last Sunday the celebration begun with Palm Sunday. This is called the silent week. Schools have vacation and shops are closed Tuesday, Friday and Monday.
Gunnar and I went to the National Gallery in Oslo where Munch's Shriek is displayed. Somehow it reminds me of Good Friday, by us called Long Friday. If you have heard Ian Gillan cry out on Jesus Christ Superstar, you'll understand why.
Time for contemplation and vacation. Darling daughter is home!
Traditionally lamb is the food for paaske (Norwegian translation from Hebrew). Serina asked for Tandoori Chicken. It's steaming while Gunnar is out at the airport, picking her up.
Church concert this year; The Savior by father of the famous Lloyd Webbers, William.

We always hope for a small Serina air.
Paaske also is candies in an egg, Serina's already almost empty, games and reading. In Norway crime is the must of Easter reading. Long, long tradition. Psychologists say it has to do with the nature of Easter gospel; lying, deceiving, covering up and murder.
Salvation and resurrection not included.
We have a box of Easter decoration in the attic. Hubby Gunnar wasn't able to locate it among the zillion others.
I found this cock in a drawer. He's placed among basel, rosemary and lemon balm.
Hopefully we'll take a trip to Sauda as well.
That will be a topic for next Tuesday.

Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.