text and images britt-arnhild
The kids were on their way, well, at least three of them, the forth is celebrating Easter in Amsterdam (and Marius, Ingrid's boyfriend is working). Terje and I drove to the village for grocery shopping. A lot of food is needed when the cabin fills up..
Coming back we met a challenge, the steep slope where we park our car was completely covered in deep snow. Terje's first attempt was to drive up the hill, then he backed down, turned the car and tried to back up. All in vain.
The process made me a bit nervous, I left the car to see if I could be of any help from outside, instead of sitting in the passenger seat with all my oh no, this is never going to work....... Then, from out of the blue, a snow plow came down on the main road. He saw us, he came, he showelled away the snow, he made parking space for two cars and then drove again in the blink of an eye.
Through it all I stood completely still, I didn't even remember to take a photo.........how strange, this is the first time in my life I have seen a real angel, he drove a snow plow, he made the way for us, and he knew, of course he knew, that we needed parking space for two cars in the middle of the steep hill. And I forgot to take a photo of the snow plow driving angel.......
Well, an angle know about this, of course an angel knows, that we needed space for two cars I mean......
........and I, I had been praying all day for a safe travel over the snowy mountain for Øystein, Ingrid and Marta, had't I? And though I had forgotten to play for a parking space, the angel knew.
With thankful smiles we carried our purchases up through the steep forest to Rastarbo.
I started to prepare a salad for lunch while Terje walked back to the car to greet the kids when they arrived.
Over the brook....
....up through the snow.
Winter in April has its challenges, and its charm.
Afterwaord - new challenges came when we were climbing the path up to the cabin. The snow in the trees were so heavy, several trees snapped and fell under the weight of the snow.
