A Change In The Weather

I had written a beautiful post about the changing seasons in Sweden, until Blogspot blitzed me and erased the post. I've tried to remember my sweet, soul satisfying poetry, but I can't. So you are getting the short version. (And you should probably be thanking your lucky stars.)

Our time in Sweden is coming to an end, and we can feel it in the weather.

This is our last week here, and within that week the temperature dropped 10 degrees, the sky clouded over, and it began to rain every day. We can see our breath in the evening, and wake up to frost in the morning.

We are wrapping up our last projects, and making our last forays out into the surrounding countryside.
Thankfully we have had a few lovely days, and for the others - well, the Swedes are serious about their rain gear.

On one particularly perfect day, Jacob and I decided to take the bikes in the other direction. Until then, every time Jacob and I went biking we went in the same direction: down hill. That day, we decided, it was time to brave the hill and see what was beyond the other horizon.

Of course, what we found was magical. Surprised? Apparently every time you turn a corner in Sweden, you discover something breathtaking.

We packed some food, and didn't stop until we found a picnic table in the sun, next to a wide open expanse of river. The air was crisp, a breeze was blowing fairy dust out of the trees (probably pollen, I know, I know), and we were eating fresh apples. Perfection.

 As a last hurrah, our hostess Amy arranged for us to borrow a friend's canoe. Decked out in our rain gear, we drove to a beautiful little cottage sitting right on the edge of a massive lake. It was incredibly picturesque - even amidst the gray and constant drizzle.

We never got to meet the owner of the cottage, but Amy filled us in as we explored the grounds. The Swedes had a particular style of constructing and insulating their houses back in the day - as I suppose you find in most places with buildings over 100 years old. (Jacob and I discovered this intimately as we sanded 133 year old horse crap off a wall we renovated in the Schoolhouse).

This lovely little house (though not quite so old) was built to mirror the Swedish building traditions, complete with moss used as insulation. A pile of boulders was shaped into an outdoor patio, and a sauna sat at the end of the pier with grass growing from the roof.

Braving the rain and the frigid water, I followed Jacob (an Eagle Scout and owner of a canoeing merit badge) and did my best not to tip the boat over. Once out of the cove and floating in open water, we broke out the cookies and coffee and had a "Fika" break. I suppose we have become true Swedes now.

Tomorrow is the last day before the Cafe closes for the summer. On Monday morning, Jacob and I are moving on to Prague, then the south of France. We are chasing the last of summer!

The 9 P.M. Walks

9 P.M. has become a special hour for Jacob and I within the past few days.

It all started when, after an evening of lazing around, I bugged Jacob until he agreed to go on a walk with me. We left the house right before 9 p.m, just as it was beginning to get dark outside.

We turned the corner out of the tree coverage and onto the street, where the view opens up to fields on either side and the road leads up a hill. And then we flipped out.

The sky looked like it was swallowed in fire. We had never seen a sunset that saturated the sky so vibrantly with neon oranges and pinks. We kept walking up the road, getting more and more excited the more we saw of the sunset. Finally we took off running, trying to get to the top of the hill before the sunset was gone.

It was breathtaking. This is what we saw:

The picture is poor quality and taken on a cellphone - and of course you know pictures of sunsets never come close to their real-life splendor. But it still gives you some idea of how spectacular this sunset was: incredible enough to make us run.

The next evening we ventured out at 9 P.M. again, hoping we would find another sunset like the night before. Opting out of running, we took the bikes up the hill, and did not find a sunset.

We found this:

Evening fog was rolling in over the fields, making wispy designs and patterns in the air as it flowed between trees and settled over the grass. Jacob even saw three deer leaping through the fog. We stayed until it was almost completely dark, then rode our bikes back home.

And just for good measure, here is another picture from a recent trip to our favorite lake on a stormy hot day.

It seems like everywhere here is the "scenic route". We've just been rolling in the natural splendor, and it never gets old.