Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

The Creation of New Land in Iceland. Guestblogger brother Børge

My sister Britt-Arnhild invited me to contribute to her blog with a scenario of the volcanic activity in Iceland.

As a geologist living here at the volcanic island, exactly on the border between the North American and European tectonic plates it was of great excitement when the volcano Eyjafjallajökull woke up from his sleep last week, burst into life for the first time in 190 years, and started to erupt lava and ashes.

I decided straight away when I learned that the eruption was happening that I had to see this with my own eyes (and cameras). The weather forecast for the week-end was good with clear sky, however, with cold wind from the north. I first considered to walk up the mountain, but realized that cold wind, toxic gases and 12 hours of return walking was not for me this Saturday. Instead I ordered a trip with a helicopter.

Driving down to Skógarfoss (meaning; the forest waterfall), where my airlift started took me about 2 hours from Reykjavik through the changeable landscape of Iceland. The Skógafoss is one of the biggest and most beautiful waterfalls of the country with a width of 25 meters and a drop of 60 meters. Due to the amount of spray the waterfall consistently produces, a single or double rainbow normally visible on sunny days.

Boulders covered with ice at the bottom of Skógarfoss.

  

 
 

After a nice stroll around Skógarfoss, I was all set for the thrill of my life, a helicopter tour for a close up view of the erupting volcano.

In the front seat with the pilot, I had the best view you could expect, and my expectations increased as we started to climb the mountain.

The amount of bright white snow increased as we gained attitude, however, the snow soon turned into grey due to the ashes from the eruption. And then suddenly we reached the top and the eruption revealed itself in all its glory. Surprisingly, I was not the only person around, hundreds, even thousands of people had walked, used their snowmobiles, or mountain trucks, to reach the mountain that day.

The lava fountain reaching 100-200 meters up in the air was a sight difficult to explain. The lava, originally around 1200^oC cools down on the surface, but keeps very hot just underneath the surface of the newly created lava layers.

 

 
  

After the ride with the helicopter, reaching the lowland again, I needed to calm down to digest all the huge impression from the helicopter ride. I could glimpse the shoreline in the horizon of the huge delta south in Iceland. I drove my car some kilometers and started to walk. However after 20 minutes, I realized that I have not approach the shore at all. Distances got a new perspective within this landscape. So I just laid down there in the middle of nowhere, with only sand plains around me for tens of kilometers and reflected over the meaning of life. It was nice to be lonely. I made considerations of the creation of the world and the previous experience of the birth of new land. My conclusion; we human are important, but we are small in this huge masterpiece!

A Day at Rastarbo, and an exciting surprise coming up soon......

 
When tha cabin was built in 1976 my father named it Rastarbo. It means a place for resting or something like that. The name couldn't suite the cottage any better. We sleep long nights, wake up fit and ready to enjoy our days here.

Marta has a friend staying with us for a couple of days. The girls sleep long, long, long in the mornings, Terje and I eat our breakfast, fill a small backpack with coffee, oranges and chocolate and go for cross country skiing. Home just in time to make the girls a truckload of pancakes for brunch.

Last night friends came over for dinner. Lucky for Marta she had a friend to play cards with - "all what you grown ups talk about is travels, books and culture........I guess sport will be next......."

Long, lazy days. How I love them!

:::::::::::::::::::

Tomorrow a guestblogger has announced his visit. I am so exciting, I know this will be of huge interest for you all, me included!

Cabin life means a fit life :-)

The weather forecast talked about rain today, but as I sit here looking out our huge windows I can see no signs of it. The sun is here, and for me it looks like it will be another day perfect for cross country skiing, perfect for making a fire, eating burnt sausages.......
 

But before going out I have my every morning at the cabin quiet writing time. I wrote alot last  night and I continue today. I am writing this cabin book in English, which is not my mother tongue and I woke up this morning with alot of English words on my tongue.....can I use this word in my stories, what does this word mean, what about this....... I am always charmed by writers who know how to use the language with its flow of richness in words. A.S.Byatt has always been a favorite of mine because of this, Frances Mayes has the same gift. For me this will be a challenge, a challenge I am stupid, or naive enough to dive into.

I will have to count on alot of English speaking friends to help me out, to find the right words, to help me collect the right stories. Like yesterday, when I wrote about the washing of my hair and I could include Karen Blixen and Out of Africa. Thank you Mo'a for reminding me of this story.

Writing, skiing, eating.......that's my fit cabin life. And I love it when the weather is nice enough to enjoy Terje's chocolate cake out on the terracce. Or his breakfast indoors..........He is up now, making breakfast, so it is time for me to stop blogging. 

  

The Birth of a Book

Easter 2000 we arrived at the cabin, proud owners. After almost 25 years of visiting mum and dad here at week-ends and vacations, the roles were now turned the other way round - we had bought the cabin from them a few days previous, now they were visiting us.

We took possession of our new house in different ways, Terje started to clean and to explore the nature around, I started to tidy, to remove old stuff I didn't want, to fill every nook and corner with my own small treasures; books, china, shells, baskets with yarn and fabric, quilts, an old wooden box with my collection of vintage Country Living magazines.

Every cabin morning I was up early, spending an hour or two with the black and red bound notebook I'd bought for this spesific reason - cabin stories. Already then a dream somewhere deep, deep inside about writing a book about our simple cabin life. Never in a hurry with my writing.

Today, 10 years later, the pregnacy is ripe, the due date has come. It is time to push out the dream, give birth. The beginning of a book is born, the 28th of March 2010. The first words are written, photos will be gathered. A new books is about to start her own life.

She will need time to grow, she will need love, support, she will need to learn to life. But she is born now, and hopefully, hopefully she will be able to live by herself one day, be published and start travelling the world.

The book doesn't have a name yet. The coming months I will be gathering ideas, play with words, ask for help to find a title. Are you with me?

Any idea for a title? What do you want to hear about, read about?

Time to open the Cabin again.

Spring is in the air, Easter vacation has started and it is time to open the cabin for yet another year.

Easter Holiday brings two gifts to me this year, the gift of Jesus rising from the grave, the gift of continuing writing. Both are part of the same, The Gift of Life!

Will a photo and word book about cabin life be of interest, I wonder? I started it 8 years ago, but so far only written down in a read and black notebook for the cabin.......

Ideas are always floating in my mind.I am hopelessly romantic............my life is rich because of my many dreams.

Thank you for reading my blog, thank you for dreaming with me.

A Funeral stirs up Memories

Today is the funeral of my dear uncle Ole, married to dad's sister Åse. The photo, which must be from around 1965, shows Ole with a bright happy Colgate smile in front of a bunch of happy kids, and also aunt Åse and my mother. Can you see me :-)

A life has come to its end, a man has reached the goal. The last step was climbed a week ago, now uncle Ole is with his Creator, resting after a long fight.

A funeral day is a sad day, and in many, many ways a blessed day. A day when you count your happiness, you look back, and through tears you are filled with smiles and laughter.

I found this photo of Ole among a bunch of photos my brother Børge gathered for my mother's 80th birthday........and while I already am here among these photos......well, I am sure you don't mind a few snapshots from my childhood.

Looks like I am mixing up something, my doll and my brother Frode.....

Me and mormor/grandma Olga

My young, charming dad, always teaching us about flowers, trees, birds and animals.....

Christmas party or a birthday party? Grandma Olga, grandma Ragna, grandpa Johannes and a gang of aunts and cousins.

 Even today, 50 years later, I remember the icy cold feeling of eating icecream with grandma Ragna's silverspoon. Grandpa Johannes was a headmaster and he and grandma Ragna lived in a small flat in one of the school buildings. When we gathered there for family parties we (the kids) were sent up in the attic to play in a classrrom there. What a paradice for a gang of cousins. Our favorite game consisted of alot of jumping from desk to desk, not allowed to touch the floor. I have a vivid memory of the huge maps over the blackboard, I was never as happy as when I could drag them down and dream myself into the deep forests and huge waterfalls of Africa.

Grandpa Johannes had a goal to win a teddy bear for all of his 21 grandchildren.

 17th of May in 1964 or 65. You can see the Nidaros cathedral in the background.

I can go on and on with this, boring you all to death........

May be there will be some more later.

The World at my Doorstep

I took the bus to work this morning. Sitting next to a young African woman I could feel the smell from food and spices not common in my kitchen. Exotic, tickling my tastebuds, sending me images of food and travels, making my morning filled with dreams of travels to come, far away places I not even know exist........oh, there is always so much ahead, so much new land to explore. My world map still have so many uncoloured areas, waiting for the rainbow.

I left the bus together with a young South American mother and her little son. On the pavement we passed an Asian woman, she looked up at the South American one, smiled, nodded and said "Good morning" (in English). I forgot snow and ice, I forgot the still chilly temperatures and kept on with my mind travel around the world.

 Thank you new inhabitants of Trondheim for introducing me to new tastes, colours, songs and smiles. Thank you for bringing the world to my doorstep.

Where generations lived and loved. A repost

The house is abandoned, but when I came here it told me a story of generations living and loving. Most days were hard work, but there was also room for joy and happiness; a grandmother weaving stories of far away life to her little grandson, a mother giving birth, a young man bringing his new wife to the beautiful red house close to the sea, a mother awake during the night waiting for her husband to come home from fishing, a father teaching his son to harvest. Summer, winter, prime, old age.

The house will not stand much longer. One day a winterstorm will be too strong. And memories of life and love will fade.

But the house was there when I came, and it offered me bits and pieces of its lived life, of its lived love. The house willfall apart, but memories will live. In the wind blowing, in the waves dancing, in hearts beating, in hands writing, in people aound the world reading.

I found this homestead during one of my walks at Tautra. A beautiful memorial of life.

The house is abandoned, but when I came here it told me a story of generations living and loving. Most days were hard work, but there was also room for joy and happiness; a grandmother weaving stories of far away life to her little grandson, a mother giving birth, a young man bringing his new wife to the beautiful red house close to the sea, a mother awake during the night waiting for her husband to come home from fishing, a father teaching his son to harvest. Summer, winter, prime, old age.

The house will not stand much longer. One day a winterstorm will be too strong. And memories of life and love will fade.

But the house was there when I came, and it offered me bits and pieces of its lived life, of its lived love. The house willfall apart, but memories will live. In the wind blowing, in the waves dancing, in hearts beating, in hands writing, in people aound the world reading.

I found this homestead during one of my walks at Tautra. A beautiful memorial of life.

"I make the world's best vegetable soup!"

I had been too busy at work to register the weather, but finally leaving my office I was met by a bright, warming sun. It's time to make the summer vegetable soup, I said to myself.

Marta had a friend with her when I came home. "Do you want to eat with us?" I asked. "Yes, thank you, what's on the menu?" When I told her that I was going to make a vegetable soup the immediate  response was: "I don't like vegetable soup".

I could feel my anger rising, what kind of a behaviour is this when you are 14 and you get a dinner invitation? Then I managed to think twice, counted to ten, smiled to the girls and said: "Well, you can't actually say that you don't like my soup 'cause you've never tasted it. You see, I make the best vegetable soup in the world. Please give it a try, let me know what you think, and if you like it I'll teach you how to make it."

I went into the kitchen, starting to chop an onion, and I heard the girls whispering in the diningroom. After a while Marta came into the kitchem. "Mamma, what kind ov vegetables are you using?" "Well, here you see the onion I'm chopping, then there is garlic, leek, spring onions, shallots, carrots and tomatoes. Marta went back to her friend while I finished the soup.

Later, when the three of us sat down to eat (Terje was out travelling somewhere), Marta asked me; "Is it ok if my friend leaves the tomatoes, she doesn't like tomatoes" "Sure" I said, serving soup in beautiful bowls. I had laid the table extra carefully for the girls. I knew it would be almost impossible not to eat the small pieces of tomatoe, and I was right. Soon the three of us were busy eating, tomatoes and everything. Then the friend looked up at me "This soup is really good, I am even eating the carrots, I never liked carrots before", and she helped herself to a second helping, then a third and a forth. 
.
While eating the girls shared stories about other meals, like about the time she was invited to eat fish with us, exclaiming that she didn't like fish, was asked to try and...........of course, "started to like it".

 

A day in the countryside

I was up with the sun , already before six am. And when I left home a few hours later, the sun was shining brightly. Still cold, but the ice started to melt......slowly. Promising.

I had some work to do, the day would be filled, but I was early and decided to make the drive there into a tour. A tour just for me. Oh, how I love these travels.

When you are early enough, there is always time for detours. A left the main road to follow narrow, icy winter roads. Down to Steinvikholmen, an old fort. When I worked as a deacon I used to arrange week-end getaways in the area, and the scout leader always borrowed the key to the old fort, inviting the youths to come for a ghost walk after midnight.

I passed several farms selling their products. Unfortunately this hen had no more eggs left.

My destination was close to Tautra, you remember "my" monastery. I couldn't resist a detour out to the island. Walked into the monastrey church and said a prayer, feeling a strong urge to sit down there for an hour, for several hours, with my Creator, my Saviour.

 
 
I will come back soon. May be Easter time gives me an opportunity?

Since my last visit there has been work done in the monastery. Standing inside the church I could glimpse a closed garden though the window.


My tour was over. I reached Frosta church only three minutes after the service started. Not bad considering my detours.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Several travels are coming up. And will be shared with you!

::::::::::::

You find several of my Tautra posts back in January 2007.