8 AM Foggy cold. REALLY foggy.
Bad. Bad Gods!
These are TJAEREKROSS and were placed on this barn door over three hundred years ago to keep the bad gods out.
I ran my hand over the rough contours. Was it cow blood? Paint? Plant extract?
I do not know.
This is the inside of the barn next to the farm house.
My father was born here in 1920.
My family can be traced back from this farm for three hundred years.
The house perches high over Nordfjord.
I am transported back hundreds of years.
I see names of my ancestors on headstones.
I heard a loud rushing sound outside the cabin door.
Air conditioner? No. Of course not.
So I will leave you to your weekend.
By Monday I will have left the mountain cabin at Rand and be staying in Bergen.
I have not forgotten LOTTERY. I have not forgotten that I will soon be an author.
But I am remembering what it is like to be a writer.
Here in Norway.
What about you?
Where do you remember?