text and image britt-arnhild
Cold days. Cold days when you want to wrap yourself in a few extra shawls. Cold days when your earlobes are freezing. Cold days when it is hard to believe in the midsummer dance to ever come back.
Nicca commented yesterday: and by the way I would love also to come and share old venetians stories with you, and I said to myself, yes, let us do that, let us meet around the table, let us share some snowballs and some snow tea, let us keep warm and comfortable by sharing stories. From around the world. From around our lives.
Terje and I are on our way to a funeral today. A long drive out to the coast. Heavy wind and we have telt på knappene, "counted on the buttons" as we say in Norway, to go or not to go. Ending up on the GO-button.
I will use the long drive and the ferry ride to think of a tale to share. Probably a childhood tale.
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Leave a story in the comment section. I will pick one and the "winner" will get a handwritten letter from The House in the Woods. With a handwritten tale.
