This is temporary, as all things are. A resting spot of utter quiet and stillness. I will make traditional heart-shaped Norwegian waffles, build a fire with dried birchwood, row across the water, write with Luna curled up on my lap, purring along with the sounds of birds and Ric’s guitar in the background.

This morning, it is grey and cold. It becomes an excuse to linger in bed a little longer. Life is languid here, and that suits me.

I’d like to stay here until the golden leaves fall from their branches and flakes of snow drift down from the sky, when the days become short and dark, only to be offset by the wondrous northern lights. It’s a magical place, this Walden Pond of mine.

Mornings come early and the days are long, with the sun rising over the horizon at five-thirty and setting at ten. And with little to entertain us by way of the outside world, we are never bored. We are bathing in nature and peace, reading, cooking, planning our next stop on our adventure.

This place speaks to my soul in a way I don’t think any place ever has. It feels like home.

And on cold mornings like this one, there are Norwegian waffles scented with cardamom and served with brunost, crème fraiche and berries. Brunost, or geitost as my mother called it, is a caramelized Norwegian brown cheese. It’s delicious on buttered toast, and yes, even waffles.

My cousin Lesli recently sent me a message saying, “I just had geitost on my toasted sourdough and had a thought about my father and your mother. It’s the little things.”

And indeed it is. Sometimes it’s a piece of brown cheese on warm toast that evokes a memory, connecting family across time and place.

With warmest wishes,

Cardamom & Brown Butter Norwegian Waffles

Recipe

From the Archives

My Favorite Cinnamon Buns

From the Land of Trolls and Apple Cake