The last child in the woods, revisited

Since leaving Canada, my "career" as an outdoor educator has come to a standstill. But, over the recent months, I have been attempting to kickstart my outdoor ed brain again. Basically, I did two things. 1) I bought (and read) the book "The last child in the woods". 2) I volunteered for a week at a lavvouke (outdoor week) at Eluin's barnehagen.

Let's start with the book. In (very) short, the book discusses the impact the reduced access (compared to the access the authors had in their childhood) to nature that our children experience has on our children. The authors refer to this reduced access as the cause of "nature deficiency disorder" and use this disorder to explain the much higher occurrence of behavioural and social problems in children and adolescents.

Now, I am too much of a scientist to lose my skepticism over the proclaimed correlation between reduced access to nature and ADHD and autism. I am, however, a big enough proponent of outdoor education to completely and utterly agree with their observation that a) nature has become a distant phenomenon for too many children and b) the fact that it is no longer normal for a child to spend their time in nature, to play, to build, to observe, to learn, to get lost, to climb and to fall is a huge loss.

One reason the book gives for the loss of our children's interaction with nature, is the criminalization of natural play. This refers to the tendency of society to try and box in every single part of our lives, including outdoor play areas. Building a tree fort is not safe, kids might get hurt when the building collapses. They may damage the tree they are building it in. That tree might be an endangered species. If they play in it, they might leave their trash, thus polluting the environment. There is no supervision in the woods. What if drug addicts start using it as a shelter? What if a child molester finds out that children are playing there unsupervised and attacks our children. It is just not safe! And, yeah, as a side effect, this attitude also makes free, natural play for our children next to impossible, but, hey, at least they are safe.

Just this week, two posts on social media caught my eye in this respect. One was a newspaper article that received a lot of praise on facebook. It told the story of how a forest ranger in the Netherlands had dealt with a tree fort he had found in the woods. Although building tree forts in the Dutch national forests is prohibited, this guy decided to turn a blind eye and to not break down the fort. He did, however, leave a laminated page of rules for the kids, that they had to abide by in order for their tree fort to be condoned.

What the peep... I mean, kudos for the dude for breaking the rules. And great to hear that so many people think he did a great job. But, really?! It is not allowed to build a hut and we need a laminated rulebook to "allow" these kids their playtime?!

The second post that caught my eye, was one posted by the Girl Scouts of Canada. It offered a list of "empowering comments" to replace the omnipresent "be careful". It argued that "be careful" is not conducive of kids trying their limits, nor does it offer any assistance in the child achieving the goal she has set herself. When you think of it, being careful actually gets in the way of a lot of cool things you can do as a child (or adult, for that matter ;-) ) . This one rang home in particular, too, because I spent the first part of my lavvouke yelling "forsiktig" (be careful) every 5 minutes and the second part of the week biting my tongue every 5 minutes to avoid yelling "forsiktig" ;-)

So why do I need such a long intro to finally share my excitement about my week in the woods? Well, because I have spent a lot of time thinking about the stark contrast between Norway and the rest of the world in this respect. And also, should there be any Norwegians reading my blog, I want to make them aware of just how special their situation is. And how important it is to foster the outdoor connection they have in a world that is swiftly moving away from that connection.

I am very grateful that as an outsider and an amateur outdoor education fanatic, I got the opportunity to tag along with a group from Eluin's barnehagen. Spending a week outdoors with a group of 2-4 year olds and their dedicated teachers was pretty much the best week I have spent in Norway so far ;-)

Eluin had her lavvouke the week before I went into the woods and it is funny how my perspective on this week changed from the "mom"perspective one week to the "volunteer"perspective the next. As a mom, I am very happy that Eluin gets to spend so much time outdoors. I love the stories she comes home with. I love how her first-day-apprehension turns into last-day-I-don't-want-to-go-home. I am mildly frustrated with the amount of clothes, shoes, lunch boxes, breakfasts and extra coats I have to pack, but let's face it, that is only my frustration about the horrible planner I am. I mean, I have trouble making sure my kids are wearing all the clothes they should an a normal school day, let alone me having to make sure there is extras of everything! Oh, and where at first I found the wood-smoke-and-mud smell of Eluin rather yucky, I now have come to like it because I associate it with the happy girl that climbs into my car after a day outside.

The Monday after, as I took my backpack, my lunch pack and my wool-clad body up the slope to the lavvo, I realized I was experiencing a little of Eluin's first-day-apprehension. Was I really going to spend a week "just being in the woods"? Would the kids not get bored? Cold? What if they did not understand my Norwegian? What if the teachers thought me weird for being so excited about the fact that they took kids to the woods for an entire week? How could you possibly spend so long outside with such young kids?

When I arrived, there were two teachers, one child and a crackling fire. This lavvouke was at a gappahuke (a wooden shelter with a fire pit in front of it) just a short walk from the road, with beautiful views over the fjord. There is a tent for shelter and changing diapers. There is a kids' bathroom, consisting of a potty for number 1 and a potty for number 2. There are some big wooden play structures and some climbing structures built by the barnehagen. The child was checking out the play structures and I accepted her invitation to race on the motorbike with her. Shortly after, she grabbed my hand and asked if we could go and pick raspberries. I asked the teacher and found myself 10 minutes after my lavvouke had started in a raspberry bush with a chatterbox -5 year old. She checked every raspberry she and I picked if they had worms in them and handed me the ones that did.

After breakfast, one of the teachers explained the rules of the lavvouke to the children. She explained that it was fine if they wanted to explore, but that they had to make sure they had a grown up with them. At that point, my new best friend nudged my knee and whispered: "Are you a grown-up?" Me saying yes sealed the deal and from that moment onwards, I was part of their world.

That week, their world consisted of picking, and eating, berries. Of going on hikes in the surrounding forest. Of climbing the play structures, swinging on the swing, gliding on the zipline and jumping off a table. I saw kids challenge themselves to be brave enough to jump off that table without a grown up holding their hand. I saw kids starting up a pretend game one day and continue with it the day after. The kids that still needed a nap slept out in the open in the coziest sleeping bags I ever saw.

Even though the kids were quite young, I was amazed to see how quickly they felt at home outside. They all found that one thing that was the highlight of their day. A couple of kids were completely mesmerized by a dead mouse that was slowly, bit by bit, being eaten by an ant colony. They would just sit and watch the steady work of ants cleaning up a corpse. The teachers told them not to pick up dead animals in general (and this mouse in particular ;-) ) and explained how if an animal dies in the forest, it provides food to other animals and is cleared away. In a world where everything dead is scary and yucky, it was refreshing to see the wonder of these kids while watching nature in progress And yes, as a biologist who sees death, decay and decomposition as normal, necessary parts of life, I felt very smitten when during one of hikes, one of the kids ran towards me, grabbed my hand and proudly showed me another dead mouse. It's a good thing when you can share your interests ;-)

Other kids ate their weight in blueberries, raspberries and tyttebær. Just imagine if we could also just sit down between our food, only having to extend your hand and eat as many berries as you like, while discussing with your best friend which one tastes better...the blue ones or the dark-blue ones. Four out of five days, lunch was prepared on the fire and the kids helped find herbs in the woods to spice up their meals. Eat that, elementary school students who think that their broccoli actually grows in the supermarket...

All kids roamed freely. They played, climbed, sought each other's company or solitude, fought over sticks, resolved said conflict over sticks and decided to play with rocks after all. They needed no "toys", but built their own playground with whatever was lying around. I saw kids that were happy, upset, angry, funny, solemn, inquisitive, sleepy or active, but never, at any point, did I see a child that was bored!

What struck me most, though, was the flexible approach the teachers had. In the email I received before the lavvouke, they told me that they take it as it is and see what the children like to do. That is very little planning for an entire week of being outdoors... It also expresses their willingness to actually put the child at the center and their dedication to follow the children's lead. From what little I know of child-led learning, this is something that a lot of educators aim for, but have little capacity to actually work with in a traditional school setting. The fact that these educators in an early childhood centre grab their chance and run with it, makes my amateur teacher heart sing (because child-led learning was at the heart of the forest project that we did in Canada).

Seeing that particular pedagogical framework in action over the week, made me realize why it is so hard to put that idea in practice in a traditional school setting. And how much HARD WORK it is to stand by that principle. It would probably have been so much easier to just jampack-plan the entire week full with activities, storytime hours and a rigid hiking schedule. Instead they went with the flow.

They followed the kids' pace, while keeping their own schedule in mind. They made sure no-one got hurt, while at the same time offering the kids knives and saws to do some woodwork (yes, that's right. I got to learn knife-skills at 39 that most Norwegian kids learn at 4 years of age ;-) ). They made sure the children's needs were met, while at the same time fostering their independence. Even though all basic child care actions that are part of their daily barnehagen day must have taken at least twice as long as it does in barnehagen, no one was ever in a hurry it seemed.

Come to think of it, this lavvo-uke may very well have been one of those Kung-Fu warrior tests, where you learn how to grow your strength by bending with the wind. Or something. Anyhow, I think I failed that test, because I did not really have a job to do, yet have never been as tired in my life as after that week! :-D

In conclusion, I am yet again in awe of teachers. And in teachers that take kids outdoors in particular. In fact, it has made me realize how much I miss working with children, how much I miss working outdoors and what an amazing opportunity it would be for me to learn from Norway's tradition of outdoor life and outdoor education... So... I am kind of toying with the idea to go back to school. First off, I need to find out if the "outdoor pedagogue" they have at Eluin's barnehagen is actually a Norwegian profession, or if that is just the name they gave to the guy, because he refuses to come inside ;-) If it is a profession, though, I may have finally found out what I want to be when I grow up! Which basically then leaves me with finding out where to apply for that course. And how I will find the time to study. And the money. And yes, that would also mean passing the dreaded Norwegian language proficiency test, but hey, at least I would finally have some motivation to do my Norwegian course homework ;-)

Lost in translation

DISCLAIMER: I do not take any responsibility for any mistakes I have made in the Norwegian words and sentences I have written here :-)

Moving to a different country when you are Dutch inadvertently means you have to learn a new language. In our case, with two moves to two linguistically different countries, it meant learning two languages.

As Dutchies, we are very well aware that only a very slim portion of the earth's inhabitants actually speak Dutch and as such we get (some) education in at least 3 different languages in high school. Which would make you think that moving to a country where they speak a language you have learned in school would be a breeze. Think again.

Our move to Canada taught us, or me at least, that there is a huge difference between learning a language and actually speaking a language. I remember quite vividly how after 2 weeks in Canada, I thought my English was pretty darn great...only to realize 3 months later that my English actually was, for a native English speaker, as boring as those conversations one hears in an online language course. Where Canadians had about 35 ways of saying how they were doing, I had only one. "I'm fine, thank you." 

Thankfully, I was able to find a friend who was willing to serve as my linguistic guinea pig, so I could try out different ways of saying things. Most often by directly translating expressions from Dutch into English...and then having her teach me what the English equivalent of that expression would be. Soon I felt confident enough to actually speak English, rather than reciting the sentences I had learned in school. Unfortunately, that led to another pitfall!

Nothing leads to bigger language mistakes than thinking you can "wing it". And it seems that I in particular have a knack for using the wrong words at exactly the wrong time! Like this one: 

During our first spring in Canada, I was at a party. The weather had just changed from rainy to sunny and I was explaining to my friend's husband, that in the Netherlands we have a name for the first warm day of spring. It is called "rokjesdag", skirts-day. Now, in Dutch, the name for tights is "panty". So, here I was, proudly telling the story of "rokjesdag", speaking the infamous words: "...so, basically it's the first day that Dutch women wear their skirts without panties." And yeah. Panties in English means underwear. As in knickers. As in I had just told someone that on the first warm day of the year, Dutch women went commando under their skirts en masse. Whoops! 

So fast-forward to our arrival in Norway. The biggest take-home message from our time in Canada was that you will fail no matter what and that you actually learn most from your mistakes. And as I make a fool out of myself on a regular basis anyway, I can't really use fear of being socially awkward as an excuse not to try and speak Norwegian.  So, from day one I tried to engage in conversation. In Norwegian, that is. 

One of the huge advantages of the steep rise in smartphone usage, is of course the fact that a lot of "conversation" actually takes place online or on-texts. This means that as a language newbie, you don't have to think on your feet, but can actually take your time to figure out what to write. Or just copy-paste the google translation into your message. Unfortunately, this is not completely fool-proof as google translations may not be very accurate. And nor does google recognize the local Norwegian dialect that people use here (yes, they use it in their texts, too). Plus, you always run the risk of cursing google translate for failing again and again to translate a word in a text you got. Only to realize later that the word you were so desperately trying to translate was actually the name of the person sending the message... And yes, that happened to me. Twice. 

The more I learned, though, the more I started to realize that Norwegian is actually a blend between Dutch and English. For example, the word for "knife" is "knive", which looks a lot like the English word, but is actually pronounced the way a Dutch person would do if it saw that word for the first time ("kuh-nee-veh"). Should you think, that this has made learning Norwegian any easier for me, you are sadly mistaken. More often than not, it only adds to the muddled, confusing fog that is now what my brains once were. Let me give you some examples (and yes, most of them I have remembered, because they are kind of funny ;-) ).

In Norwegian, there is a verb "å gå". This sounds a bit like "go" and looks a bit like the Dutch "ga", which also means to go. In Norwegian, however, "å gå" means "to walk". So, it was only after someone made the remark: "Well, you made pretty good time then, getting to the Netherlands and back in only a week with 3 children in tow." that whenever I said: "Vi har gå til Nederland i juleferien" I did not say "we went to the Netherlands for Christmas"....but rather that we walked there! Should there be any Norwegians reading this part, I do not take responsibility for any mistakes I make in my Norwegian things I write here (I do know that the Norwegian sentence above is not grammatically correct, though ;-) ). 

In addition, "å løpe" may look like the Dutch verb "lopen" (to walk), but actually means "to run". Not to be confused with "å springe", which looks almost exactly like the Dutch verb "springen" (which means "to jump"), but means "to run" as well, but then slightly faster.

A box is not called a box, but an "eske". Because a "boks" is a can. Or this one: In Dutch, a squirrel is called an "eekhoorn". This sounds exactly like the word "acorn". Which of course is the name of the fruit of an oak tree. Now, in Norwegian the word for squirrel is "ekorn" which sounds exactly like "eekhoorn". Or "acorn" for that matter. Are you confused yet? ;-)

To avoid too much confusion, I actually practice conversations whenever I have the chance. I look up ways to talk about the winter holidays for example, so I have answers ready to the most common questions. I even go as far as practicing my sentences out loud. So if you ever hear me mutter unintelligibly, I am probably working through some new replies.

Now, the big problem with that is, that I can sometimes quite reasonably respond to questions Norwegian people ask. I might even trick them into thinking that I can actually speak Norwegian. And so the next time I run in to them, they may actually just ask me something out of the blue. At which point I am in big trouble! Because is she asking me whether my bag is heavy? Or did she mean that my bag has a hole in it? Did he just comment on the weather? Or that I have a big booger in my nose? HELP ME OUT PLEASE I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!!!

Failures aside, the best thing about learning a language is if you can share your learning with others. It works really well to just ask people the translation of English words. Especially when that translation is really funny. Like when I asked my Norwegian friend, who is from Alaska originally, what the Norwegian word was for "beard". It is "skjegg". Which looks funny, but sounds even funnier, because it sounds exactly like "shag". Which cracked me up completely! No wonder so many guys in Norway want to have a beard, hey? Nudge nudge, wink wink.

Like I said before, the scariest moment is when you think you can "wing" it in a language, that you can improvise your way through. It is, however, also the phase that gives the best stories! Like that time when Menno tried to say I love you. Because "sweetheart" is "kjæreste", he said: "Jeg kjære deg"...which means something like: "I cut you" :-) Or that time when I wanted to practice the list of occupations and said: "Kuk jobber i kjøkken." I of course meant to say: "The cook works in the kitchen." Instead of "kok" though, I said "kuk". So what I actually said was: "The cock works in the kitchen." This may only be a one letter difference, but the hollering laughter of my three girls (who did know what kuk meant), still rings in my ears! That is one mistake I will never make again!!!


...I hope ;-)

How to survive Norwegian winter

I have been meaning to write about how our family made it through our first Norwegian winter (and first proper winter in general). But in order to write about our "survival" of "winter", winter had to be over. And only now, early July, do I finally feel confident that my tell-tale sign of winter, a.k.a. snow, will no longer rain down on my summer parade.

Of course, that is a lesson I learned the hard way, too. Like after Easter this year. The Easter weekend was gorgeous! Clear blue skies, rising temperatures and, most of all, no snow. All our neighbours were out in their gardens starting some spring cleaning and I decided to use the long weekend to swap our winter clothes for our summer clothes. Of course, I was a little more cautious with putting away our winter clothes than I would have been in Vancouver, but still.

After Easter, I dropped off Eluin at her barnehagen. As I was walking across the sunkissed playground, I called out to one of her teachers and said: "Wooohoooo! Spring is here!" To which he replied: "It will snow again at the end of the week." Haha. Funny guy. Thinking he can scare the tourist.

Of course, as I was shovelling the snow off our front steps two days later, the joke was very much on me. This incident taught me two very important lessons. 1) It can, and probably will, snow in April. And May. And I am sure sometimes in June, too. 2) Norwegian people do not joke about the weather. Ever.

But let's start at the beginning, say, somewhere in October. The first thing we realized, was that Norwegians are very well adapted to the wide ranges of temperatures, types of downpour and beauforts of wind that any given autumn in Norway can throw at you. This adaptability stems from the sheer abundance of base-layer, mid-layer, outer-layer, rain gear, shell pants, shell jackets, snowsuits, outdoor suits and ski jackets they have. The combinations of these layers is endless! However, there is a correlation between the type of weather and the combination of layers and it can take some time to figure out what to buy, when to put it on your child and, most importantly, which garments to have on stand-by should the weather change. Because it will ;-)

Thanks to Eluin's barnehagen, and the fact that they spend a lot of time outdoors, we got a quick course in Norwegian weather-adaptability. The course was quick, but it still took us some time to find the right gear, to pick the right gear for the right day and to convince Eluin that she really had to wear more clothes than she wanted. Nevertheless I am forever grateful that they took the time to explain things to us and to give us tips on where to find good deals on the gear Lulu needed.

Of course, being a mom of three, I figured I could just copy-paste the tips for Eluin onto the other girls (and myself). So, with some fiddling with sizes and layers, I felt pretty confident around the middle of November that I had successfully increased our weather adaptability. I swear I even got some jealous looks from Julie, our dog, who only had a winter coat and a summer coat to choose from...

But of course, once you have one thing covered, another thing pops up. Or, in this case, pops out. Like the light. Because part of living "up North" is going on a sunlight diet. It's not that it gets completely dark here, we're not that arctic, but there is definitely less light. And as a consequence, you need to dress your kids with reflective vests, headlights and blinkers on their backpacks in order for them not to end up as roadkill on their way to school. In fact, you might as well strap one of those fancy light-up collars on your dog, because if you let her off leash and she sprints away...well, good luck finding a black dog in a black field under a black sky.

For me, however, the biggest adjustment was indoor life. Or, more specifically, nightlife (but more on that later). With lower temperatures than I was used to, and the fact that the heating system was different than in the other homes I have lived in, this for me was the biggest thing. Now, in the Netherlands, most of us have what is called "central heating". You have a boiler that heats up water and all through the house you have radiators. Usually there is one central thermostat, so you can set the temperature for your entire home. However, with opening and closing the valves on the radiators in the different rooms, you can quite specifically adjust the warmth in your home to your particular needs.

In Canada, we did not have such fancy heating. In our first apartment, we had floorboard heaters. Which are pretty much electrical heaters, but place at such a height that they are ideal for crawling toddlers (read; Eluin) to roast there little fingers on or for grown-ups (read; Roos) to fry their toes on if you accidentally step on it. In our second apartment, the heat was switched on once a year and switched off once a year. With no ability to adjust it in between. That was not my favourite place to live, heatingwise, for sure.

Here in Norway, however, we have three different heat systems in place. Downstairs in the basement, we have two rooms with floor heating (LOVE IT!). Every room upstairs (including our washroom next to the front door) has electrical heaters mounted to the wall. And our living room of course has a very cute Jotul wood stove.

Now, in theory, Jotul would be my favourite and preferred way to heat our home. It's cosy, it's Norwegian, it's romantic. For some reason I feel it is less of a fire hazard then the electrical heaters. And, most importantly, it is cheaper than the electrical heaters. This is particularly important because I am married to Mr. Stingy. He likes to save money every step of the way. Being Ms. Spendthrifter, I have come to appreciate his penny-pinching approach to life, because if we save money on one part of our life, I have more money to spendthrift with in other parts of our life. Sometimes, however, the prioritization of where to pinch and where to spend might be open for reconsideration...

So, as I said, in theory we would use jolly Jotul to warm our home. In practice, that worked out really well...if we managed to light it. Once lit, it did warm our home brilliantly. The problem of course lies in the "once lit" part.

Holy shit.

Forget about Norwegian courses to learn the language! Forget about learning about Norwegian holidays and how to celebrate them! There is but one thing of crucial importance when you move to Norway and that is TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD A FIRE!!!! We need tips on kindle, how to heat up the smoke channel when there is snow on your chimney, how to keep it going, etc.

I spent countless hours trying to light the friggin' white monster, only to give up, put on an extra layer of wool and start baking yet another cake, so I could at least put the oven on and generate heat that way. Of course, I could have put on the electrical heaters, but I would not give Mr. Stingy that satisfaction ;-)

Now, the fact that we do not use our electrical heaters might seem stupid and stubborn to Norwegians. And it probably is. But to me it is equally stupid that in a country where one experiences sub-comfortable temperatures for the better part of the year, your "most convenient" option for heating your house are power-guzzling, inefficient, smelly (yes, that could improve if we cleaned our house more often), fire-hazardous, electrical heaters. So I refuse to give in.

Even if that means that our girls refer to the washroom next to the front door as the "summer washroom, the "outhouse" or, as a Dutch-English word joke, the "koudhouse" (koud meaning cold in Dutch). Or the fact that my friend goes to the washroom before coming to our home because she is afraid to freeze off her patooties if she has to use our koudhouse. Next time, just give me a heads-up before you come over and I will put the heater on in our washroom especially for you ;-)

Even if that means that our bedrooms are as warm and cozy as an igloo. I think that is where my biggest adjustment lies in adapting to Norwegian winter. Before moving to Norway, I had to principles when it came to sleeping. 1) I slept with the window open. 2) I slept with as little clothes on as possible. I know, probably too much information ;-) Nonetheless, if you are used to sleeping like that, it takes some time to adjust.

In our case, the answer was wool. Lots of it! During our stay in Canada, I had already invested in woollen 4-season duvets. My all time favourite duvets, because they are never too warm and they are nice and heavy. I thought that would be enough. Alas...

For years, we have had a memory foam mattress and memory foam pillows, because we both love the way it supports our bodies at night. Little did we know, however, that memory foam comes with an optimal temperature. And that if you go below that temperature, it turns, well, less foamy and more rocky. So the first 10 minutes in bed were spent thawing out the memory foam enough to accommodate our curves again.

That changed once we got a woollen under blanket to put on top of our mattress. Getting flannel sheets also helped. As did giving up on the whole "as little clothing as possible concept". I actually became a huge proponent of the "as much clothing as possible concept". On any given night, I would crawl on top of my woollen blanket, under my double woollen duvet, wearing a woollen longsleeve, woollen long johns and woollen socks. Perhaps for next winter I should just buy a sheep and put that on every night!

Needless to say, the excess of clothing and the cold are not particularly conducive to keeping things "interesting" between the sheets. Believe me, we have tried, but results have so far not been very satisfactory. The whole on-the-rug-in-front-of-the-fireplace is of course a plausible alternative, but as that is not technically between the sheets, I feel it would not count. Judging by the fact that there are numerous highly pregnant ladies around in July, one has to conclude that Norwegians have figured out a way...probably by just switching on those darn heaters, I presume ;-)

For the kids, sleeping in winter has not been much of a problem. First of all, the lack of daylight actually makes my two notorious insomniacs (Jura and Eluin) sleep like babies. I will not comment on their sleeping patterns in summer when there is an excess of daylight ;-) Jura, Nori and Eluin have grown quite fond of their hot water bottles, especially if I put them between their blankets a little before they crawl into bed. I have been woken by Eluin a couple of times in the dead of night, with her pushing a cold water bottle in my face and the admonition: "It is cold. You need to fill it again."

In the morning, I wake them up by putting the clothes they are going to wear that day under the blankets with them, so they can warm up a little. And the cats obviously also help to keep them warm at night ;-)

All in all, this first winter has been hard work. But on the other hand it is rather cool (pun intended ;-)) to experience a proper winter. To learn to adjust, to push your boundaries and to accept that you still have a lot to learn. With the near constant daylight we have right now in summer, I kind of long for the winter darkness. For the coziness and the holidays. I love the fact that I can now really knit to my heart's content, because here you get to use your woollen goodies pretty much year round.

However, if someone knows about a course in fire-lighting techniques, please fill me in, because that is one course I would like to join! :-)