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Between light and dark in January

WE ARE LOOKING in the woods. It is dark. The sun has turned, each day becomes longer. A nice arrangement, that vintersolhverv comes at christmas time. This someone must have thought of. The christmas season is sort of in the middle of winter. As soon as it is over, it becomes easier to live. The longer days. Brighter sky. That the sun turns two days before christmas eve can't possibly be a coincidence. Here we live, was christmas of white, but now it has also turned. Some snowflakes came the other night, but the light made disappeared in the course of a morning.

IT DOES NOT something. The kids cheer when the snow falls. But they cry not when it disappears. They take everything as it comes. They learn of the birds in the open. And the lilies of the field. "Not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of them," as a wise man has said it. The children think the dark is exciting, at least as fascinating as the light and snow. Åtteåringen will go evening walk, and she will enter in the forest, on trails that are just now becoming darker every minute.

SHE HAS YET not learned that there would be something scary to grope their way between shrubs, trees and roots that winds its way over the forest paths. She didn't seem the tribes similar to the trolls or the witches. She gives long lectures about everything from religion to soft toys. She graves and ask. She wonders what happens when people die and whether it is cheaper to buy food at REMA 1000 than on the Menu. If there were dinosaurs when dad was small, and about those who went to the moon fifty years ago, is up there yet. But first and foremost: "you Took with the biscuit, dad?"

MOON high in the sky. A glowing sickle or a bit of a fingernail or whatever the poets call it. We come to the water that was so warm to swim in for a few months ago. The last clouds get a pink tint from the declining sun. The moon reflected in the half frozen surface. "See, it resembles a gold treasure at the bottom," I say. "It looks more as if it has tumbled down from the sky," she says. "And is lying down there on the bottom." A dreamer and a apokalyptiker, hand in hand, on the way back to the light.

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