“Nothings’s happening by the sea” is a slow flowing tune by Chris Rea yet it’s slightly upbeat and sunny disposition oppose the description of what envelopes the South Nordic in December. Grey skies, low contrast, repetitive, meditative waves lightly rolling rocks by the sea shore a day after a storm. The same medium that a day prior had violently thrown …
Kåseberga Chronicles #4
Something orange through a frosted bathroom window. No, not the orange striped cat lurking sometimes, clearer in color. Moving erratic, swirling and going airborne. Curiosity forced a look through the clearer, but far from clean, kitchen window. A plastic bag, a bright orange plastic bag. Who use those these days? No name, no logo just orange. It spins, it lifts, …
Kåseberga Chronicles #3
Green fronds (no idea that it is what it is called) sticking out of straight rows planted by the farmer. Harvest in progress. A hole in the ground, not man made. Teeth marks in the sweet meet of half dozen carrots. Picky eater, all attacked none finished. Who did this? Hare or mole? #Kåseberga, #carrot, #morot, #blast, #carrottop, #teeth #mark, …
Kåseberga Chronicles #2
A footprint hardened in concrete. A 75 year old misstep size 42. Who was the man who helped build the machine gun post overlooking the waters between Sweden and Nazi-Germany 90 km away? Perhaps he wore woolen fatigues and spent days and nights staring above the waterline looking for periscopes or flickers of light on the horizon. Did he ever …
Kåseberga Chronicles #1
I stepped in it. I had too. As a kid there was amazement to press much smaller ones and see the brown cloud of spores spread. The largest I had ever seen but apparently they grow larger than the football at my feet. Surrounded by nettles near an empty cowshed. Lots of nutrients in the processed grass dropped by cows …
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