What I miss from home

People ask me all of the time if I miss home. I think this is an indication of how little people know about me. Of course I don't miss being at home. I am studying folk music, living in Norway. All I have to do is look out my window to remind myself that I am incredibly lucky to be here. This is a phenomenal experience that I am here to enjoy and learn from.

What I miss from home are people. People I care about. Fortunately, I can talk to them on the phone. It's not the same as sitting down with a cup of coffee or tea or a pair of fiddles, but it keeps away the home-sickness. I also miss good coffee, but that I can get in any reasonably large town, should I happen to be in one. I miss dancing as frequently as we do in Seattle, but that will be there when I come back.

Yesterday, I made the mistake of missing the rain. The sound of heavy rain drops beating into sidewalks, streets, gardens. And the smell! Even in Seattle, the smell I'm missing is more a springtime occurrence. I love to walk in the rain; the exercise keeping me warm, the water from the heavens keeping me cool.

Today it rained in Rauland. The foot of snow soaked up the precipitation in the places where it wasn't melting. The roads and walkways turned into sheets of ice as night fell. Piles of snow became solid frozen white walls. We were lucky this time. The rain turned to snow and adhered to the frozen paths giving them texture and traction. If it keeps snowing overnight, we can maybe forget that it rained by the time the sun comes up.