The story without a moral

Searching for the cafe at Ringsaker

Searching for the cafe at Ringsaker

Sometimes we have a point to share when sharing our journey through life. At other times, writing is just the joy of remembering, of living through joy and adventure once more. To be shared, of course, but with no moral to it, no indexing, sorting, couching, or any wisdom at all included, just joy.

So this is how the pointless story without any message goes:

” I am going to visit Kristin this summer”, I told Stig in May,” are you coming too?”

“Of course, I’d love that” he says, picturing hikes in the mountains, on the glaciers and in the woods, which is one of the things our friend loves to do.

Some weeks later, he probably feels there has been to little checking on equipment, comparing routes and discussing alternatives. ” Actually, what are the plans for our visit?” he asks.

No tough girl activities planned at all, I can see that he is not happy, and simultaneously we arrive to the same conclusion. He’ll bring the Harley, I’ll bring the dog, and that’s how we went.

Going down to the lake Mjøsa from Hovinsholm

Going down to the lake Mjøsa from Hovinsholm

His stories about the rides in the fierce thunderstorm, at the highest altitudes and the worst roads, the most glorious views and the warmest day ever, are his to tell. Happy trails!

We, Kristin and me, went for rides that would have driven anybody but us crazy. It goes like this: “there should be a lovely cafe here, really? let’s turn around! Oh it’s not here, it’s over there,can we go there? I am not sure, let’s try, oops that was not the right place…did you see those colors!” And then we stop, park the car at the roadside, and takes pictures, stroll along a curvy lane or get soaked in a shower while picking sunflowers.

Stopping for pictures at Helgøya

Stopping for pictures at Helgøya

Then we have coffee, and of course more coffee if another nice place turns up, and then there are honesty stalls with raspberries, interesting people to chat with and the most amazing stories to be told.

Sunflowers to pick, the sign reads "knife on the box"

Sunflowers to pick, the sign reads “knife on the box”

Then we set off searching for a cute store selling exceptional dresses, and we find it! Except it is closed…but we do find the store selling pure linen dish rags, and are happy buying them!

Perfect break at Skafferiet

Perfect break at Skafferiet

Another day we do the lovely ride and short hike to an old restored small-holding high in the hills, the gallery, cafe and home of Egil Thorin Næsheim.

The "outdoor" kitchen at Snekkerstua

The “outdoor” kitchen at Snekkerstua

Pancakes with rhubarb jam in a mountain garden, the dog curled at our feet, the sun smiling.

Snekkerstua, the Næsheim gallery

Snekkerstua, the Næsheim gallery

Later that day we go to another mountain farm, called Ro, or Peace.
No words can catch the buzzing bees, the smell of thyme, the soft grey green of the apples ripeneing on the wall. Then there was coffee served from a copper kettle, with hot cinnamon rolls to go with it.

Coffee, served the peaceful way at "Ro"

Coffee, served the peaceful way at “Ro”

Even so, the best treat, Lina, the creator of the garden pulled up a chair and sat down with us, telling us about her visions, dreams and work.

Kristin and Lina at Kulturstua Ro

Kristin and Lina at Kulturstua Ro

Days do not often come better than these! And then we went home, to Kristin and her mother at the charming, old, small farm, and made the day even better, with nice long meals, raspberries and cream, more talking, more sharing.
Just a couple of days, and Kristin went back to work, we loaded the bike and went back home, full of adventures and pictures to share with each other, and shared memories of a treasured visit with a dear friend.

The living room at Snekkerstua

The living room at Snekkerstua

 

 

Content of being content

IMG_6499 (1280x853)There’s a fountain in our garden, the drops form a triad of continuous music, one drop that hits the water, one that hits the grass and one that hits the paving stones keep playing together.

There’s a wind-chime in our copper-beech. Six carefully baritone tuned pipes sounds softly, one after another.

There’s a dog under the birch-tree. Snoring the midday heat away.

IMG_6467 (1280x853)There’s a charming husband high in our cherry tree, collecting everything out of my reach.

There’s a pick up truck in our yard as our oldest son arrives with more sugar for the cherry jam.

In the middle of this am I. Standing at a garden table, tanning my back in the sun, pitting cherries. Bucket after bucket.

I am content. I am happy.

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Doing nothing

IMG_5851 (1280x853)Working from home today. It is 11:17 and I have not done a thing.
I woke up, showered and dressed. That’s nothing. I stripped the beds, did the laundry and hung the sheets on the line to dry in the sunshine. Not really a thing is it?
I cleared the breakfast table, and tidied the kitchen. As my husband had made breakfast, that is not really anything at all.
I walked the dog for an hour, and stood for a while watching band practise at the school yard. Philosophizing on the strange fact that even a thing that started ugly, may end up as innocent and meaningful activities. The young boys in uniforms are not marching to war, they are just donning uniforms, playing war music and heeding their leader to add joy and fun to this sunny day.
Then the dog and me went home, scrubbed the garden furniture ( bird droppings), had a coffee (me, that is) and I posted on my Bible blog.

I still have not done a thing, my account is still unbalanced, and my reports are still quite unfinished. The important projects are totally unplanned. Which makes me think. Except for watching the band and doing my blog, everything else I have been doing today are things I sooner or later will have to pay others to do for me. If I live long, perhaps even the shower and dressing bit. So is this true: do I work to be able to  pay others to do the work I do not appreciate being able to do today?

I do not. Sometimes though, my mind, and people around me think that is a way to live. Then I’ll have myself listen to my heart. Realigning my priorities, just now, by going outside to hang the next load of laundry and really smell and enjoy the first sunny day for ages. In a moment, by opening my job mail, while all the time hearing the dogs content sighs and snores as he dreams of his long walk.

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Viking ways

IMG_5834 (1280x853)This is how I felt today, crowded. By things I should do, by things I would have loved to be doing, by things I have to do, by things I never will come around to do. In short, from where I stand the only calm person to be seen is the viking surveying his town, sword in hand. I have to admit, if a slashing, sword-swinging bout of action could clear my lists, I would do it. As you can see, I am not in a position to do that. I took the picture while wheeling my heavy laden bike through the market of my town Trondheim, the only way to get going was by carefully weaving my way, stopping, waiting, smiling, not hurrying. I had one item to buy at the market, my summer breakfast favorite, honey cake, and kept going.

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But wait, I had the best clutter-clearing, worry-killing, task-quitting weapon at my side. Invisible to you, I was walking with a dear, wise and kind friend, Anita. We were heading home after coffee in town. Slowly we worked and talked, shared and sorted through big and small. Halfway we stopped for another coffee with waffles, kept talking, kept laughing, and suddenly we were home. I was ready to tackle my crowd.

IMG_5842 (1280x853)Then I saw it, the crowd was not an illusion. I had tried to make lists like some of my friends do, I even had bought a sweet blue notebook for it. They just add everything as they think of it, and handle it when they get to it, one item at the time. It did not work for me at all, the tasks felt like a swarm of bees or a crowd of vendors crying for my attention.

IMG_5841 (1280x853)I had to sort, not only by talking and sharing. I still and forever is the indexy type. Admitting for the long lists, I found four bigger index cards, still honouring my thought that what I do should be the four cornerstones of my life. Still knowing  the fact that more than that is simply too much. I sorted my tasks, divided them on the cards and are on my way to conquer them. Grouped like that I see what I do as part of a bigger picture and an ongoing life, not as irritating tasks that keep me from living.

No viking way of getting it done, no way to conquer and subdue for ever. As in life, if its is worth doing, keep at it. If not, let it go! And by all means, have some waffles with a friend while deciding! By the way, I did not find my cake, so instead I’ll find my grandmothers recipe book and make one myself, even if it is not on any card.

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Summer snow

Midsummer in Oppdal

Midsummer in Oppdal

As we arrived at our cabin, it was snowing. As we made a fire in the fireplace the wind was howling. As we hoisted the banner to tell the world that we were in place to celebrate midsummer the hail came hammering down. Midsummer? Midsummer!

IMG_5773 (1280x853)I had to go looking for it. Dressed in windbreakers, muffler and gloves, boots and hat, dog on leash I went to search for the summer in hiding. I found flowers, wildflowers shaking in the wind, but still blooming. I lost count after finding ten different kinds on three square feet. I heard the cuckoo somewhere in a fir-tree. When I was a kid, the first cuckoo was the sign we were allowed to run barefoot in the grass. I met a flock of ewes with their month old lambs, the sheep-bells clinging in the wind even when the animals were standing still to figure who I was.

IMG_5736 (1280x853)We came home, to the warm cabin. Put the midsummer bouquet in a water, lighted the candles, rekindled the fire. I had found summer, I just had to look for it.

Saving for a rainy day

IMG_5627 (1280x765)Being inside, with an open window, listening to the patter of raindrops on green summery leaves.

Walking outside, like passing through layers of soft silk, feeling the warm rain drenching  and reviving my whole body.

Digging the garden, sensing the energy of every seed stretching to make the most of the moisture.

No need to save anything for rainy days, which are so full of their own blessings, even so I had done that. I had saved one task for the first rainy day, that was also a day off, and yesterday was it.

IMG_5701 (1280x853)As a true clutter quitter, organizer and striving to get orderly person, some of my treasures brought back from the States was red and green fabric boxes for my Christmas stuff. For ornaments, for wreaths, for strings of light, for wrappings.

I carried the old boxes, bags and what nots up from the basement and had the most lovely, sentimental, tearful, joyful, de-cluttering day, with the window open, the leaves rustling and the rain falling.

The rest of the family thought I was overdoing it, could it not wait until packing away the ornaments in january? It could not. My sorting days are my way of getting grounded, getting back on track, getting ready. Now, I am ready for summer, knowing that Christmas is ready to be taken down from the shelves in all its orderly glory, hopefully not on a rainy day. But if it rains….I’ll have another favorite task to handle that day in the coming December, and that’s my secret, making the most of any day, especially the rainy ones.

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You’ll never walk alone

IMG_5662 (1280x853)Yesterday I was present when the congregation at Tiller started to use their new liturgical clothes. The process of designing and making them is worthy of several blog posts that maybe will be told, one day. Today I’ll just share the beginning and the end.

I always start with the biblical texts for the Sundays when the liturgical clothes, or paraments, will be used.IMG_5618 (1280x853) This set is red, the color of blood, the color of martyrdom, the color of fire, the liturgical color for Pentecost, for ordination, for the day of the apostles. The texts speak about being a witness, about martyrdom, about baptism by fire and by the holy spirit. To me, most of all it speaks about the God who walks with each and one of us through all this. Be not afraid, one texts says. I will not leave you fatherless, another tells us. Yet another, I will stay with you to the end of the world.IMG_5641 (1280x767) So I wanted the textiles to show God surrounding us, enfolding us, walking with us, in every moment, in sorrow and in joy. Which made me start with the Fibonacci numbers. Fibonacci did not invent them, but told the west about ancient indian and arabic knowledge, the sequence and order you’ll find in nature, the golden ratio. Like the seeds of a pine cone or a sunflower, every row being the sum of the two before it. IMG_5639 (1280x853)To later theologians this sequence became a witness of how God’s ordering principles rule nature. To me, I used this sequence to make a cross, and the world where we live. Sometimes you do not immediately see it, like in life, it may look chaotic, it may look without order. If you keep looking, it is there to be found.IMG_5651 (854x1280)