The delights of summer

Yesterday, between rain showers, I ate my lunch outside at the tables in front of the coffee shop. I had prepared for myself a salad teeming with the bounty of summer produce. While I sat on the mostly dry chair at a table that was definitely wet, eating my salad that seemed to increase in size as I ate it, I thought of the rainy summers in Seattle.

Perhaps it is global warming or my shady memory, but I don't remember summers in Seattle being long stretches of sunshine. I remember the comfortable rain. Perhaps it is more closely related to my summer habits of retreating into the cool dark basement with a special blend of Ghiradelli dark chocolate chips and walnuts in a Tupperware cup that someday would be taken to the beach and used as a digging implement losing its pleasantly smooth edge and becoming forever relegated to the back of the cupboard. In the hours while my parents were at work, I would watch tv mindlessly - making sure to follow the complicated system of turning on fans and closing hatches and windows to preserve the valued coolness of our stone house.

It must have been hot. It must have been hot because we went swimming in the sun. We all thought that swimming in the rain was the best, but swimming in the sun was necessary. When the weather was hot on the weekends we would pile in the Falcon and drive to Tacoma. Nana and Grandpa Arne always had fabulously delicious food (the broccoli chicken bake, salmon, potato salad, sour cream and onion potato chips, real sandwiches, PIE, ice cream in a variety of flavors, waffles with homemade jam for breakfast). The rest of the family tended to show up. Who wouldn't come for good food, swimming, and laughter?

Grandpa Arne's pool was the perfect place to play and get wet. It was a little short for laps that were more than recreational and diving was not allowed, but those limitations were not particularly bothersome. We floated, played games we'd made up (like Fox and the Eggs), and did tricks (mostly headstands and sommersaults). We'd get out when our fingers and toes looked like the prunes Grandpa and Nana ate every night before going to sleep and there were streaks of teal randomly distrubuted across out bodies where we had bumped into the walls of the pool, the aging paint had come off on our skin.

Sitting at a sidewalk cafe outside an art gallery, eating a bottomless salad, I started thinking about food as art in five dimentions. The fourth and fifth are clearly taste and time, but which is which? According to convention it is time that is the fourth dimention. But isn't taste more important? But perhaps the time to grow the ingredients and select them are as important as the art of the perfect composition of flavors. Taking time to taste the variety of ingredients is critical to the success of the piece. It also creates ample time to remember the delights of summers past.

Yesterday's Salad:

Iceberg lettuce (in Norway it still has a little green color)
Cabbage
Arugula
Onion
Carrot
Tomato
Avocado
Kidney Beans
Feta (marinated in olive oil and herbs)
Red wine vinegar
Oil and herbs from the feta

Chop the things that are choppable and mix together. Enjoy with friends or memories.

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.

Rauland weather report

Friday night I enjoyed dinner and conversation with my friend Anja and her roommates. It was snowing when I headed out to her house. It snowed while we ate dinner and talked about our teachers and classes. It snowed while we enjoyed ice cream over a lively discussion of religion and politics and future careers.

It was still snowing when I walked home that night. It was dark and beautiful, the snow making the whole world seem brighter in contrast. Best of all, it was quiet. Absolutely still. I took down the hood on my jacket and stopped walking just to enjoy the silence. It was cold, though, so I didn't stand around listening to nothing for long.

Saturday was a slushy miserable combination of snow and rain. It had its good moments though. I played with Iselin, then she helped me make applesauce. David came over and we played some more before making pizza. Then we watched a soccer match with Stine and Benjamin. It was nice to relax with my classmates.

On Sunday it rained and rained and rained. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought I was at home. Of course at home, it wouldn't have turned into snow. Right about the time Marco and Mona picked me up for some singing and dinner (which turned into a few bottles of wine, good conversation, and me crashing in their extra bedroom) it started to snow again.

It seems to have snowed all night. We have roughly four inches of new snow and a real winter wonderland feeling. Of course, as the dentist said when I met him on my way out of work this morning, November is unstable, weather-wise. All we can do is hope that this snow stays. It's really no fun starting over with the ice every time it snows!