Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Time for Carnival

A good friend of mine is in Venice these days, for the carnival. And for the city.

I get messages on my cell phone. "Today we met Mauro at Glasshandmade. He was pleased to get the gift from you". "Today we've spent the morning with Dottore Feli. It is amazing all what he knows about Venezia. We will meet him again tomorrow"........

My mind and my heart follow my Norwegian friends meeting my Italian friends. I feel like I am there together with them.

I am no match-maker and have no ambitions becoming one. But I would like to call myself a "friend maker". Bringing people together. Watching new friendships grow.

Friends are flowers in God's garden. I am happy to be an apprentice doing seeding and watering.

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Photos: a shop window in Venezia in October

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Update:

My dear Venetian friend Dottore Feli just called me, telling me how much he appreciated meeting my two Norwegian friends.

Oh, I wish I was in Venezia.......

Fastelavn. Carnival. Before Lent.

It is the days before Lent, "fastelavn". A time for carnivals, for alot of food, good food, a time for colours.

Colourful branches are sold in Norway, the money from the sale given to "those in need".

My book, "40 dager - fra karneval til oppstandelse" starts with these days, ends with Easter and "Christ has risen!" I look forward to walk the paths of Lent accompanied with the book.

I am travelling down to Oslo today. To be interviewed by radio. A Lent Tale every week for the 7 weeks of Lent. I am preparing. My mind, my words, my tales.

Take a look at how fasnacht is celebrated in Germany.

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Photos: My aunt and other women making "fastelavnsris".

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The coming weeks I'll guide us all through Lent, some old and some new traditions, recipes, a colour calendar, signs of hope, reflections, Stabat Mater, prayers, silent reflections......

A New Turn, a New Beginning, or just Keeping On.....

I will be 50 this year, in a couple of months. And I've got my first pair of glasses.

Turning 50 - is it a new beginning, a totally turn around or is it just a keep going?

I am looking forward to being 50. I find myself looking at older women, thinking - they are filled with lived life, the lines in their faces and on their necks comes from having loved through decades. Sorrows and happiness, it is all about living the life you are given. Age is beauty.

Turning 50 means "keep going", and again I pray with St. Birgitta "God show me the way and give me the willingness I need to walk it."

Turning 50! Keep going also means that I will continue giving myself challenges!In my diary I make a list.....

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• travel to India (I bought the tickets yesterday. YES!)
• plant roses
• read a book in a foreign language
• say hello to a stranger ( a stranger is a friend you don't know yet)
• climb a mountain
• love

The list will grow throughout the year.............................

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Update:

• Read Henrik Ibsen's plays.

A new favorite place for eating out. 3 years of blogging!

For months I have passed some mysterious, hidden windows downtown. Wondows all covered in brown paper and a sign saying that an Italian pasticceria will soon open.

An Italian pasticceria! Soon! I have waited, and waited, and waited.....

Like an eager little girl I have dreamed of all the cakes I would be able to buy, almost licking my fingers in anticipation.

In December a small corner of the paper was removed, and behind the glass we were able to see the most beautiful nativity sceene. Oh yes, this was going to be a true Italian place.

This week the brown paper was finally removed and the pasticceria dream opened. During the first two opening days I had three visits here.......

The first time I just passed by, saw the open windows and two gigantic Murano glass candeliers inside. Would you have had the self control not to go in.......

The next day I was in town for some errands, and knew exactly where to go when my stomach told me it was lunch time.

When I sat there eating my pizza with parma and mozzarella one of the owners came around offering almond biscuits to everybody.

"A biscotti for you Signora?" Of course I couldn't say no to his Italian charm.

Enjoying the last piece of my biscuit I watched the beautiful waitress cleaning the table at the red sofa. I was on my way out to meet a journalist who would do an interview about my book, and suddenly I knew where the interview were to take place - in the red sofa of course!

Don't you think my book fits perfectly with the flower arrangement and the atmosphere?

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I'll be back for more Italian treats!

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I am celebrating three years of blogging these days! May be that's an occation for another Italian meal?

Breakfast on a week-end morning.

Marta loves week-end mornings.

She can sleep long, walk around in her pyjamas, and is allowed to eat breakfast in front of the television :-)

I made her breakfast today. A piece of bread with ham and cheese, chives for a little colour, a note from mum saying "I love you". A glass of milk.

Oh yes. It is easy to see why Saturdays and Sundays are favorite days.

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This was posted yesterday in The Blue Café. It is early Sunday morning here and time for me to make breakfast for me and Terje. It is a lovely day, and we plan some cross country skiing in the woods. 

Poesie across the ocean.

Some weeks ago I got an email from Constance. Her grandmother came over to US almost 100 years ago from Norway. Constances mother still has the poesy book her mother brought with her over the ocean, and Constance and her mother wondered if I could help them to translate a few of the poems.

We had dinner with my parents last Sunday and during coffee I showed the poems to my mother and her sister. Soon we were deep in a conversation about poesie and memory books, my mother found her own book and memories were shared.

The history of Memory books, or Poesie books started for more than 200 years ago. In my own collection I have my grandmother Olga's memory book from 1919, memories from fellow students she had spent a year with at Fredly boarding school. I have my mother's book with the first memory from 1942. My husbands book from around 1963, and my own which I started in 1966.

From the beginning the owner of the memory books were mostly girls from the age of 15-16. But from around 1930 the first children's memory books came. As soon as a girl learned to write she could collect poems and memories in her book, and it was a popular way to try out borders and flowers to illustrate the writing.

  Memory books are still popular. Both my girls have their own.

Memories were written not only by friends. Parents and grandparents were also asked to write poems.

Small girls in the 1960ies dreamed of marriage in a white dress.

A collection of memory books from different times.

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Photos:

• The Poesie book which Constance's grandmother took across the ocean
• Front page of my mother's Poesi book
• Grandma Olga's book form Fredly
• Pages from the books of Constance's grandmother
• Memory written to my mother from her little sister
• Memory written to my mother from her mother
• Memory written to my husband from his grandmother
• A young girl's sweet dreams, from my memory book
• Three books, my husband's, mine and my mother's
• A young man's memory to my mother.

Constance's grandmother Agnes with her sister and her family. Photo taken after they left Norway.

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Thank you very much Constance and Lois for bringing up such wonderful memories.

Constance's blog Rochambeau is my blog of the week.

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I also have some great memories from my grandpa Benjamin, but they will have to wait for another day.

The taste of a snow flake

Have you ever closed your eyes and pointed out your tongue to taste a snow flake?

Torgeir, our oldest son, had volunteered to make dinner last night. A late dinner, unlike when we usually eat. But 8 o'clock was what suited all of us. When he started his work in the kitchen he realised that Marta and her friend had eaten the noddles he had planned to use in his wok. Starting late he was in a hurry to finish....Ingrid had an appointment as soon as we had eaten.

While Torgeir started to cut the vegetables I walked over to the grocery store for more nuddles.

It was snowing heavily. The perfect time to taste snowflakes.

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Photo: from my studio window.

It's time for coffee

We eat dinner around five, I start preparing as soon as I am home from work. When television news starts at 7pm it is time for coffee and sweets.

Coffee is made in the French coffee pot, china is chosen from the glass cupboard.

Best china for best days - everydays. Why hide it?

Coffee time is extra special these days, European Championship in handball is on here in Norway, and we follow the hard fights of the Norwegian men.

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Photos: part of my china collection.

Where inspiration comes from.....

Inspiration comes in many ways.

Dreams, a quote, an envelope inside an envelope accompanied by words from a lifelong friend, a fragrance of colours filling the air, a palette of roses, the magician's smile.........

Some months ago I stumbled upon a new to me blog and the front photo followed me. A crocheted scarf draped over a ready packed suitcase. The moment I saw it I knew I had to make a similar scarf. A scarf to drape over my suitcase. A traveller's scarf.

Yarn came in a Christmas gift from Germany. The traveller's scarf is in progress. Soon ready to travel with me.

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I have searched in vain trying to find the blog again...........

Once upon a time there was a magician.

Once upon a time there was a small magician living in a land of ice and magic. The land where you eat six icecreams a day ("Of course I do, I am from Iceland"), the land where everything is possible, rabbits are dragged out of deep, black hats, shining eyes melt hearts......

One day the young magician travelled over the ocean, far, far, to meet his aunt. Like a puppet master he knew how to handle the aunt's heart strings. Pulling here, pushing there........and the aunt does exactly as she is told.....even search the freezer for yet another icecream......

The young magician owns the world, speaks the language of the natives, jumps with joy when the aunt squeals when a spider is missing.

Laughter and joy surrounds the small magician. The aunt breath it all in......and is totally exhausted when it is finally time for the magician to say goodbye..........a bed at his grandparents' is waiting.

Thanks Águst for a whirlwind of an afternoon.

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Photos: my nephew Águst (from Iceland), gave us a magic show last night.