The reason I say I think it's the sun, is because when it appeared briefly on the 3rd February, it was such a long time since I'd seen it that I really couldn't believe my eyes. I was almost blinded by the strong light! Endless grey days of snow, sleet and rain take their toll on me, and I truly think it's enough now. But at least I've become an expert on snow ploughs this winter - with great assistance from my friend Ellen - and learnt to differentiate between the various types, and also at what time of day - or night - they make their performance. They dance around as gracefully as any ballet dancers, shuffling and shovelling and shifting the snow masses with the lightness and ease of a prima ballerina.
And lately I've heard there's a rumour going around in the Snow Plough circles that there's a crazy woman taking photos of them at all hours…..
The Pavement Plough
The Day Plough, small - possibly a New Holland
The Night Plough - possibly a Valtra - with a glass door
Two Fendts dancing a duet
I've recently had some days of such psychological stress and turmoil I honestly didn't think it was possible. Suddenly it struck me that moving on the 1st September - as we're supposed to do, having bought our new flat one and a half years ago - packing up and putting our house on the market after Easter, then arranging Julie's wedding in July (fantastically happy story though, but it doesn't arrange itself) - it's all just going to be too much for me. So I called the constructors to ask them how I could instead put the still unfinished flat on the market, and the answer was pretty discouraging. It strikes me how incredibly friendly and eager they are when they sell, and how disgustingly hostile and unwilling they are to help when you want to get out of a deal, even with overwhelmingly good reasons.
Well, anyway - things were worse than I ever expected - it seems they will have finished the flats three to four months ahead of time, that is May/June as opposed to what we were predicted. Which again means they'll want their money then, which means our house will have to be sold - like NOW. Preferably yesterday…. I told the woman at the constructor's office (she was the one who sold us the flat): "Thanks for making me nauseous and pretty much pushing me into deep depression." I also mentioned to her that we would never have purchased and moved into a new place this year if we'd known of my husband's illness, and she actually said she understood that.
Well, I'm basically an optimistic and dynamic person - and the deep depression threat was maybe slightly exaggerated - and a few conversations with good friends convinced me that I'll receive help from EVERYWHERE - to pack, to style the house, to move - if it turns out we can't get out of the contract in any easy way.
Watching the annual International Holmenkollen Ski Jumping Contest in March 1983. Unwittingly pregnant with my first baby.
Cross country skiing in Hemsedal Easter 1983 - still unwittingly pregnant with my first baby
While writing this I've got an eye on the opening ceremony of the Olympic Winter Games in Sochi, and, at the same time as thinking there's a lot to be said about this and Russia, I'm such a sports enthusiast that I can't help being excited! And Norway is a winter sports nation above everyone else! My daughter Sophie is already doing a great job of clearing out stuff, and she found the above photos yesterday. Just goes to prove that at least I used to be a winter sports enthusiast!
But most of all I enjoy a quiet walk in my park. Winter or summer. Spring or autumn. Cold weather, warm weather. Happy or sad. Weak or strong. Alone or in company. Sundial working - or not.
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