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2005-06-16


The house across from Gubben's Hus is owned by an artist that moved to the south of Sweden to work on their illustrations. I was lucky to snap this shot of their barn door when I did. They removed and replaced these delicious doors the very next morning.

I love walking to work. I once made a promise to myself that I'd never have a job that required me to commute. I managed to keep this promise for three years. [But, there was the time that Apple Computer offered me enough money for me to compromise my morals and drive 47 miles to work each day. Maybe Cyndi Lauper was right when she sang, "money changes everything."]


These signs are extinct except on the most remote, rural Swedish roads. The M stands for möte, which means 'to meet' in Swedish. This was where a car should wait in case it met another car coming from the other direction. Modern yield signs have all but completely replaced these. More imortant than any of that, though, is that they're a lovely shade of blue. They're comforting for my eyes, and for my soul in some way—standing tall, steadfast, surrounded by a limitless northern sky.

But, now I'm fortunate to be in a situation where I can walk to work if I want to. The little house I stay in is only about a mile from the studio. And, the simple act of walking to work allows me to differentiate that day from the others. I remember the walking days much more than the driving days. I feel closer to my surroundings. I get to spend more time appreciating the beautiful details—details I'd probably be driving over and destroying with Christoffer's old, white Volvo.


Stone walls line the country roads. I wonder how old these walls are, who built them, and how long it took. Sometimes I daydream about what their lives may have been like. But, I don't daydream for long. My attention span doesn't really put up with that sort of thing.


I think I should make it a goal to do something every day to set it apart from other days. So, what first?


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