All This Light

There were panoramic views: green fields and red houses, glassy fjords, waterfalls and white-topped mountains. There were sounds of bird song and goat bells and the roar of rushing water. There were buttercups and dandelions and finally enough lilacs. There was a tiny white church with a well-tended churchyard, and all that beautiful light. It was a breathtakingly lovely place.

One daylit evening a man with a big beard was pushing a wheelbarrow heaped with fire wood through a very old apple orchard. It was an ancient-looking vignette, except for his ear buds and cell phone. An old woman rode by on her bicycle, a little girl was picking flowers, a couple of teenagers strolled by...and instead of looking sullen, they smiled and said hello. The village had a busy daytime feeling well into the night, everyone taking full advantage of the season.

"It's the joy of springtime after months of the snow and icy cold," said a woman we met named Bjorg. "There is nowhere better than Norway at this time of year. And then, in a way, we have to keep the spring inside of us. We learn to do that."

Bjorg and her husband Albert run a restaurant and art gallery in Balestrand. Everything is pricey in Norway, but at their restaurant the food is good and a whole performance comes with it. Bjorg, who is dressed in a long flower-print skirt, bright red jacket, and purple tights, is happy to linger at your table, tell a few stories, and even sing an old Norwegian song. She also encouraged us to go upstairs and look around while we waited for our food. There was a makeshift museum up there, a studio and gallery for her and Albert's paintings, a tiny theater for viewing movies, and, at the top of a secret staircase, a glass-domed space with a wide view of wharf, fjord, rooftops, and sky.

It was fun to find such an anachronistic place, and such a quirky and animated local ambassador. Bjorg was a teacher for many years, and at one point, while she was well into her 50s, she decided it was time to live the kind of life she dreamed about, and do what she'd always wanted to, which was art.

"So I gave up teaching and became an artist," she said. Her mystical watercolors have a folk or fairy tale feeling--a little girl in traditional clothing stands in the snow on old-fashioned wooden skis, a golden-haired child and a peaceable bear meet amidst the wildflowers--like illustrations for a beautiful children's book.

Bjorg and Arthur work hard, but they're doing what they dreamed of doing, and Bjorg is a woman with a message: "I'm here to tell everyone that it's never too late."

I am a most responsive audience. I've been feeling a little too late, you see, and a little bit over and sad. I've been wondering about all this gorgeous light and life I get to experience, asking what I have done with it, not feeling especially worthy. Even in the midnight sun I find I'm haunted. I need to set down this baggage I've been hauling around, and I like to consider the possibility that it's not too late to do that. I want to learn to keep some springtime inside of me. I'm going to fill myself with all the light I can inhale.