I went home to Norway early this summer. I’ve been living abroad for more than a decade. It’s okay. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m a restless person that will always look toward the horizon and be tempted by the lesser traveled path. Despite all of that, I can’t deny that it’s really, really nice to go home now and then as well. This time, I went further north than I’ve ever been before, past the Arctic Circle and then some.
I got out a bit early in my eagerness to finally see this thing that I’ve heard people talk about, but never witnessed myself.
I stood there in my thick all-weather jacket and stamped my feet to keep warm. And the sun was getting closer and closer to the horizon, but just as I thought she was going to go down, the damn cheater, she turned around and climbed upward again. What an amazing and completely surreal experience.
The light is like my favorite time of the day in Africa. All nuances of warm, saturated peach and oranges. But instead of painting it over the grassland savanna, it colored weathered wooden houses and a fish factory. The wind had a bite, it colored my nose red and eventually chased me inside again.
On the beach the tracks of wolverine crisscrossed from the mountains down onto the white sand where it was washed away by the waves. The fierce wolverine is still on my list of animals I’d like to see.
I didn’t see it. Perhaps it was meant to be like that this time. Now I know I need to return. As if I really needed an excuse.
This post is part of the Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenges.