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Keeper of the Garden
This used to be a garden
A sunny, happy place
Where someone pruned and planted, with a smile on her face.
I remember Hanna’s patience and all the love she gave
I remember Hanna’s laughter, as I passed and gave a wave.
A gentle rain would fall
The wind would softly blow
And that’s what made the garden a place where things would grow.
Now, the keeper of the garden must rest her weary back
For time has taken over, the weeds are growing fast
She pulls the covers close and dreams of flowers past.
For Hanna
Now for my choice in photos
Here are some of the shots that didn’t make the magazine:
Now wasn’t my choice much nicer?
One year later
As many of you may already know, I wrote my life story. I was also given the opportunity to publish and so after some long hard consideration, I did.
Last April family and friends traveled with me to the Netherlands to celebrate the launch of Fly Away Home!
From there I was swept into the whirlwind of cyberspace… Tweeting, blogging and trying to promote a book. I had NO idea what I was getting myself into but worked around the clock doing whatever necessary.
To promote the book here in Norway I contacted a Woman’s magazine (called Hjemmet) and asked if they’d be interested in taking photos of my house. They were and did! I blogged all about it, which you can read, here and here and here.
It’s been ten months since the photo shoot and the article was published this week!
At first glance, I was excited… Then I started seeing flaws…
They took forty-two pictures. Eighteen of them made it into the magazine but were not the photos I would have chosen!
The glossy pages make my walls look canary-yellow, instead of the pale yellow they really are.
They left out the best pictures showing the incredible view we have of the water.
Worst of all, I told the photographer no bedroom pictures. One was taken anyway -I was assured it would not appear. It did!
Looking back I have to wonder, why did I publish my story and open my house to the world? A lot of theories come to mind but I truly don’t have one definitive answer.
It’s been quite a year and I’ve experienced many different emotions along the way… Surprise, glory, good fortune, stress, insignificance, embarrassment and maybe even a little regret. But as the Norwegians say… Gjort er gjort, whats done is done.
For those of you who don’t live in Norway, here are the pictures:

The article mostly talks about the furnishings I’ve collected while living in America, the Netherlands and Norway.
It really does take a village
As some of you may know my youngest son is autistic. He was only three-years-old when diagnosed and I can still remember the day as if it were yesterday. I felt as if I were thrown from a ship in the middle of an ocean. I was shocked and terrified, but most of all I was sad. That was fifteen years ago and my son is now eighteen.
I’m sure you’ve all heard the African proverb ‘It takes a village to raise a child’ it was also the title of a book written by Hilary Rodham Clinton. Well, it definitely took a village to raise my son and not just one… but three!
When he was ten we moved from Norway to Houston and lived there for two years. From Houston we moved to the Netherlands, where we lived for three years before returning home to Norway. Over the last fifteen years teachers, assistants, caseworkers, specialists, neighbors, friends and family in three different countries have helped and taught both me and my son. It hasn’t been easy and I’m tremendously thankful to each and every one of these people!
If you look Autism up in the dictionary it says… A mental condition, present from early childhood, characterized by great difficulty in communicating and forming relationships with other people and in using language and abstract concepts.
This is not incorrect, but it is a very general definition because autistics are not all alike. For example, my son can communicate in two languages, Norwegian and English. He’s never met a video game he couldn’t beat and he’s learning to play the Bagpipes online! Yes, my son is autistic, but he’s also unique and I wouldn’t change one thing about him, even if I could.
Easter in Norway
Here in Norway, Easter is called Påske and after a long dark winter Norwegians are more than ready to celebrate. They do so by filling backpacks with goodies (mostly chocolate and oranges) and go ‘tur’.
Going tur means getting out. Skiing, hiking and boating are at the top of the list. And this year we’ve been blessed with beautiful weather. It’s a bit nippy here on the southwest coast of Norway, but the sky is clear and SUNNY!
Here are pictures from this year’s Påske tur…
Songdalstrand, which was once a busy fishing village is now a quaint little tourist attraction, adorned with well-preserved wooden houses. The narrow road leads out to the open coast.
Rosslandsguden, here we had to trudge through some snow to get up to the Sacrificial Stone and Giant Rossland God’s Head, which dates back to the Iron Age (500 B.C. – 550 A.D.). The God’s Head is actually a replica, the original is in the Dalane Folkemuseum.
Helleren, is an overhanging rock formation 60 meters long and 10 meters deep. Archaeologists have traced settlements from the early Stone Age here. The two houses standing today date back to the early 1800s and were abandoned in 1920.
Gloppedalsura, is the site of a tremendous landslide, caused by the melting of glacial ice and is one of the largest in Europe. Blocks as large as houses fell from these steep cliffs.
We also passed by a frozen lake where we saw cars racing on the ice! We did not join in on the fun… I’m not even sure it’s legal.
I hope where ever you are in the world – you’re having a fun but safe, Easter also!
I
Windows
After getting the baby settled down into his first night in our new home, I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of hot tea and looked out over the fjord. The evening sun shone down on the water causing its reflection to dance on the wall behind me. From where I was sitting I had a clear view of Strandveien, the small farm my grandparents owned, where my father was born and where they struggled through loss and poverty. The same farm sold years ago, to fund my family’s new life in America.
At that moment Harry came up behind me, laid a hand on my shoulder, leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Do you think you’ll be happy here?”
I didn’t have to think, I already was.
Fly Away Home
7:15 this morning
I’m always posting pictures of sunsets and that’s because from my house, here on the southwest coast of Norway, I see a lot of them. Words can not describe how beautiful they are and so I take pictures almost every night to prove it.
What I can’t see from my windows is the sunrise. But this morning I saw something better, I saw the moon setting in daylight.
I really do need to get a better camera, because these pictures in no way do justice to this rare and beautiful sight…



















































