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May 2022: spring, at last

Published by Maria
Three photos of the same seaside landscape, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, seen in varieties of beautiful spring weather.
Three photos of the same seaside landscape, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, seen in varieties of beautiful spring weather.

Oh, May, what a ride you’ve been. There were way too many doctors for my liking, but I’m not too keen to remember that, so instead let’s pretend this month was nothing but glorious light, comfy beds and linen garments. To get in the right mood, listen to soothing piano music when reading this post (like the Peaceful Piano playlist on Spotify). Even better if you can sit by an open window, with a cool ocean breeze and the smell of freshly cut grass drifting in through white, flowy curtains. If that’s not possible, I hope my photos will help you pretend so, at least for a little while.

Outside

An otter, swimming back and forth each night at around 2 am, earning it stern glances from the seagulls currently brooding on the svaberg (the smooth rocks behind the boathouse). An eagle trying to steal seagull eggs (it’s exhausting to be emotionally invested in seagull eggs, I tell you). Russ, the high school seniors in their uniforms, in the boathouse, partying the night before our constitution day. Tiny coltsfoot (hestehov), a sign that spring is finally happening. Clean windows (thanks, mum!). Two white reindeer, an adult and a young one, taking a nap in the shade by the boathouse, then coming up to our fence to nibble at the still-dead grass.

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April 2022: the in-between month

Published by Maria
Three photos of the same seaside landscape, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, seen in various weather and amount of cloud coverage.
Three photos of the same seaside landscape, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, seen in various weather and amount of cloud coverage.

Up here, April is the month that just can’t decide what it wants to be. One day it’s 14° C and not a cloud in sight, the next we’ll get five inches of snow in a night. It makes me feel restless and off-kilter somehow, like I, too, am stuck in an in-between state and can’t make up my mind about anything. It leads to impulsive haircuts, unfinished books and unfinished projects, and hangriness because I can’t decide what to eat. As I’m writing this, on April 30th, I can see how the world outside has changed since the beginning of the month, though, tipping more and more into spring — finally.

Outside

Dry asphalt! The most wildly pink sky I’ve seen in a very long time. The sun finally hitting the mountains from the northern angle again. A crowd of porpoise, at least six of them, swimming quite close to the shore. The song of a particular kind of tit, always starting its monotone chirps around 3am, a reminder for me to put my book away. A giant flock of beech finches, singing so weirdly I was genuinely worried when I woke up that morning and heard it. Breakfast on the terrace on a particularly sunny day.

Snow, on April 25. And 26. And 27, 28, and 29. I’m normally okay with our kind of climate here, but sometimes you just want spring, you know?

On the last day of easter break: an adult strolling down to the shore, then angrily and vigorously flinging rocks into the water, then calmly walking away again.

Inside

Yellow tulips. Asking for help with things like dusting and interior projects and plant maintenance. Doing a new thing where I clear the kitchen counters before bed (unless I’m so tired I just can’t), thinking it’ll make Future Maria so happy (Future Maria always is). Mum painting my new-ish shelf, so it’s no longer black, matte metal and untreated wood (a nightmare to dust!), but matte gold and a soft green like the wall behind it. Upholstery shenanigans.

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March 2022: daylight, dust and romance

Published by Maria
Three side-by-side photos of the same seaside landscape in early spring, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains. The weather changes from heaps of snow and heavy clouds, to less snow and wispy clouds, to bare ground and blue skies.
Three side-by-side photos of the same seaside landscape in early spring, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains. The weather changes from heaps of snow and heavy clouds, to less snow and wispy clouds, to bare ground and blue skies (this is purely symbolic, as the snow naturally came back).

Outside:

Bright, bright sunshine. The first day you could smell the ocean again (you can’t when it’s very cold outside). Two squat herons. Cat tracks in the snow. Lots of helicopters and military boats. Dry asphalt, in the short-lived Fool’s Spring we had for a week. Daylight for well into the evening, now that we’ve set our clocks to summer time. One glorious day out, buying two nail polishes, trying to flirt with someone (and realizing the pandemic has severely corroded my witty banter abilities), and also buying my own fruit and veg (instead of getting whatever the person packing my online order gives me). Had breakfast on the terrace, safely wrapped in my puffy coat and SPF 30.

Inside:

Sun into the entire apartment at seven in the morning. Partially lowered blinds on Waiting Days (that is, my most tired days). New-to-me lacy curtains in the bedroom. Packed away the beeswax candles. Also struggling to keep up with housework because of many Waiting Days, and so much dust (any tips for how to have… less dust?).

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My Months: February 2022 round-up

Published by Maria
Three side-by-side photos of the same seaside landscape in winter, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, on a purple and gold evening, a grey and snowy day, and a crisp blue morning.
Three side-by-side photos of the same seaside landscape in winter, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, on a purple and gold evening, a grey and snowy day, and a crisp blue morning.

February came and just knocked me off my feet, in a bad way. I had anticipated that January would be hard, but forgot it’s actually February that usually does the most damage for me. I have a five-year journal that lets me see what the same date each year was like, and February has been shit since 2019.

This month saw the pandemic “re-opening” of Norway, which came with unhelpful footnotes that vulnerable people “ought to shield, but not isolate themselves.” Not gonna lie, it made me feel pretty left behind, or rather, separate again, just like I was before the pandemic.

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My Months: January 2022 round-up

Published by Maria

Yes, I’ve decided that I might enjoy writing some kind of monthly summary here. Mostly for myself, because it’s interesting to look back like that, both short- and long-term. But I also enjoy reading roundups by other people, so I thought some of you might, too! The categories can change, we’ll see (suggestions are welcome!). So here we are: my January 2022.

Three side-by-side photos of the same seaside landscape in winter, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, in three different kinds of weather. The first photo has golden light and a mix of blue and hazy sky. The second is deeply blue and pink, taken as the sun has just set, with a visible moon. The third has a lighter sky, with drifting grey clouds.
Three side-by-side photos of the same seaside landscape in winter, showing a white boathouse, the ocean, and faraway mountains, in three different kinds of weather and light.

Outside the window:

Two enormous eagles. Flocks of the tiniest birds.  A swimming otter. Army helicopters. Endless snow, up to the living room windowsills. Young people down in the boathouse late at night one weekend, the lights inside glowing in the dark. The SUN, after months without.

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