My feet may reside in a city, but my heart will always be in the woods. Sarah and I decided to get out of Bergen, and take a ferry to this small island called Lysoen (the island where Ole Bull, the famous violinist, built his home). His house was truly spectacular, but even more wonderful were the trails surrounding it. We took 1 hour to explore them, and for just a few minutes I lived out a fairy tale...
This was my reaction when it finally hit me that I was on a desolate island that is (apart from Ole Bull's house) untouched by man. I could have been five years old at that moment. And if you would have asked me if fairies exist, I would have told you that yes, they do in fact very much exist.
So there I was, sourrounded by the greenest moss I have ever seen, not understanding how God could possibly stand creating such beauty when there is a very good chance that not a single person could notice that one sun beam hitting that particular tree stump in that particular way that magically creates thousands more at that exact moment...I suppose he simply can't help himself.
Later, we decided to rejuvenate ourselves with a snack from the tourist-trap cafe right by Ole Bull's house.
Later, we decided to rejuvenate ourselves with a snack from the tourist-trap cafe right by Ole Bull's house.
My friend Bernadette told me that when I get a heart-shaped waffle in Norway I should run down the street saying "I got the vaffeler! I got the vaffeler!" Well...I didn't exactly do that. (In the olden days in Norway when a man asks the woman's parents for their daughter's hand in marriage, the parents will either serve heart-shaped waffles, meaning "yes," or flat ones meaning "no.") Perhaps next time...
I'm not sure how amused the cafe clerks would have been, anway...probably written me off as a crazed tourist.After eating, I slept by the fjord...
Sarah wrote brilliant small essays...
And we took the ferry home.
One day soon I will once again walk down that mysterious trail that leads to the mossy woods...
and find out who lives in this hidden, red cottage, nestled by this hidden, calm pond.
And they will sit me down with some black coffee and tell me stories about the magical land of Norway.
Sarah wrote brilliant small essays...
And we took the ferry home.
One day soon I will once again walk down that mysterious trail that leads to the mossy woods...
and find out who lives in this hidden, red cottage, nestled by this hidden, calm pond.
And they will sit me down with some black coffee and tell me stories about the magical land of Norway.
Dear Rebecca,
ReplyDeleteWhat a sweet blessing to log onto your blog for the first time tonight, and see the beauty of this gift of God to you...Norway. Your writing and descriptions touched my heart, and made the pictures speak. They speak of wonder, His majesty, mystery and love. I love you!! Mom
I've always believed in fairies and gnomes (and trolls, too). Just ask your Mom! :-) I love your beautiful artistic pictures and the incredible writing. It is so restful to read and see what you are doing. Love you! Dad
ReplyDeleteAfter spending the weekend with your sweet mother, I had to come see what you two beautiful girls were up to in Norway. What beautiful writing and fabulous photography! I love how you said "I suppose he simply can't help himself." I suppose so. Give Sarah a hug from us and have her give you one back! Miss you both!
ReplyDeleteTracie Wilson
Becca, it always gives me such joy to read your blog! I can imagine you speaking these exact words and it makes me so happy to "hear" your voice. I can easily imagine you freaking out about the green moss, too :)
ReplyDeleteBecca, This all reminds me of Finland. All the moss... everywhere. I remember it was so strange and moss was everywhere, it was a wonderland. I hope everything is blessed for you! It sure looks like it. Skype me sometime.
ReplyDelete