On the rock high above the water. Sitting and looking out over the bay. The rustle from the leaves in the breeze. My special place, so peaceful and calm wherever the wind comes from. In early spring I hear the eagle owl calling for its mate. Down in the water a pair of swans swims gently through the water. The swans stay together for life and work together to bring up their cygnets. Every year I see them having two but seldom see them grow to adults. Thinking of the worry you have for your children. Never stops even when they grow up. Going to university to live in the large city with all dangers, the noise.

On the rock high above the water. In the winter I see a family of moose cautiously move across the ice. It breaks and one of the calf’s goes into the ice cold water. Struggles to get up. The mother looks at him and calling. Calling to the other calf to go around, to the struggling one to fight. To far away to help. It goes under once, twice, disappears and like a miracle gets its head over the water and struggles to solid ice. Manages to climb up. I am standing up now and my pulse is rushing. Thinking of my own children, praying they will manage their way to adulthood.

On the rock high above the water. In the summer the bay is full of boats seeking shelter from the strong west winds. The smell of barbecue smoke filling the bay. Someone diving into the water from the deck. Scaring up the ducks that lifts of while making loud noise. The duck mother screaming hurry, hurry, danger, danger. The sun against my skin warming me. I am calm my son sits right beside me. No talking, just sitting, thinking.

On the rock high above the water. The rocks carved and shaped by the ice, steep in one end and rounded in the other end. Rounded boulders left by the ice. Blue clay at the bottom of the bay left by the last melting ice thousands of years ago. Thinking of the people lived here since the rocks and narrow fields raised from the ocean bottom. The rich water bringing in the herring and bringing prosperity just to vanish again bringing starvation to the table. See the remains of stone-masonry. Cutting the red granite, men working in the hot summers day, in the cold cold north west snowstorm, in the rain falling almost horizontally with the south west wind. Working to provide for their children.

On the rock high above the water. Turn to the west where the storm is roaring over the shielding cliff. Thinking of the fishermen. Today struggling with rules and over fishing from floating industries. Going out in their small boats against the forces of nature. Not knowing if they will make it home. The sea provides and the sea takes back. Stories told of the old days when boats were forced to go out in harsh conditions and froze in the ice for months. Boats crushed against the cliffs caught in the storm and the dark. Many children waiting in vain for their fathers.

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On the rock high above the water. My favorite place shielded from the wind in three sides. The gorge ends in a steep cliff with a 15 meter drop down to the bay. A place presenting the beautiful things in life. A sideline to watch natures drama and scenery all year around. A place to sort for a sheep thinking man. If you like to read more thoughts from me Like and Subscribe.