GLOOM

Trying to photograph the falling snow

Lately I've kept being awakened in the middle of the night thinking we're either being invaded, or there's a helicopter landing in our garden. But no. It's only the snow ploughs. Every night it's the same, snow ploughs trudging up and down our street, simple ones that just shovel the snow to the side, and then these are followed by the more advanced ones, which both shovel and are equipped with some sort of sucking and spewing mechanism (oooo, that sounds awful), so that the snow gets sucked into a long tube and then thrown out again away from the road. This is particularly efficient for clearing pavements.

Some years ago we had a municipal government here in Oslo who tried to save money by not shifting the snow on the city streets, which meant it was literally impossible to either walk or drive. When the population complained we were told by the politician in charge to get out and clear the streets ourselves. Oh wow! Did he ever become unpopular! As a matter of fact I don't think he was ever reelected.

So thank you - all you busy snow ploughs and the night people who drive them! I don't care if I get my sleep interrupted!

It's snowing incessantly here, and consequently there's been no view of the sun for days and days. And there's a freezing wind which lowers the felt temperatures. The gloom is getting to me, but over the years I've learnt to compensate by busying myself with enjoyable things inside my house. Yesterday I lit a fire, put Rosanne Cash's latest album on the loudspeakers, poured myself a glass of wine and skimmed through the weekend papers. The only time I ventured outside the front door was to walk the two steps to my shed to get some firewood.

But it's important for my husband to be up and about, and he's been strongly recommended to try and go for walks every day. So the other day we went for an evening walk in the nearby Park, where we were more or less by ourselves, everyone else having escaped inside from that ice cold wind. 

But if only my husband would eat a little bit better! I keep trying to tempt him with all sorts of favourite dishes, and there are days when his appetite seems to have improved. But the following day he'll eat just because he knows he must. Now that he's not on any medication I long for the day when he'll say - yes, this tastes good! His taste buds are simply not functioning as they did before he became ill, but I suppose we have to be patient.

I sometimes feel as if I merely exist these days - tumbling blindly and pointlessly around in a big black void - but at the same time I'm also particularly aware of the good moments. It's like my presence in them is much stronger than before. A cat at my window. A phone call or a message from a friend or a family member. A visit from my granddaughters. A conversation with a daughter. And - like this very moment while I sit at my computer writing my blog post - my husband sleeping on the sofa an arm's length away from me. Just being close, feeling the presence of my loved ones, my life intertwined with theirs.

Oh yes. I still have a lot to enjoy, to appreciate and to love. Light will always push its way through gloom and darkness.