Off to the land of the ice and snow. And elks and enormous moon mountains, glaciers, lakes and trees. Icicles, footprints in powdery snow, clear skies and clean, clean, cold air that bites at your chest and makes crystals when you breathe. Wonderful.
We are off to Sweden, just for a flying visit. Long a favourite of mine and of Wonderful Man's, he actually lived in Stockholm for a year or so, long enough to learn a bit of Swedish and develop an appetite for sild, or swedish herring. We're off to visit friends who live north of Uppsala, in a tiny village on the edge of a forest where bears can sometimes be seen. We will drink hot glogg with almonds and raisins, eat cinnamon buns and talk long into the night huddled round a fire with the cold, blue snow outside.
I plan on bringing my moon boots and making snow angels. Wonderful Man is bringing his camera as the conditions look good for our elusive friends, the Northern Lights. Maybe we will be outside at midnight watching the sky dance with a bottle of whisky like we did in Iceland last year? Who knows. But I can't wait to find out.
