above the city of Bergen

flowering rosebay willow herb (fireweed) in Norway

The trail and the mountain lake I speak of





For me, the water's too cold to stay out longer. I return to the bank, pull myself out, and wait for Kristine who's enjoying her vigorous exercise. When she's done, we sit quietly for several minutes before retreating to her house.

She starts making dinner. Wanting to contribute I head back outside and start picking wild raspberries. It takes me an hour, but I've finally gathered two small containers worth. I return to find a warm meal waiting for me.

We eat outside, Kristine re-gifting the raspberries for dessert. I don't know if it's their freshness, or that that they're the bounty of my labor, but they taste absolutely amazing. We sit in silence, savoring the sweet and tart fruits of my labor. Here in the hills around Bergen, life is simple. Who needs anything more?

I look down over Bergen, the city surrounding the fjord on all sides and winding its way up the mountains.My house is a kilometer up the hill from the last bus stop, furthest away from the city center, the end of the line. I'm surrounded by nature.Kristine leads me on a short hike to her private lake she seems to share only with ducks and whatever unseen wildlife might be hiding. Among the flora blossoming in the Norwegian summer are wild lavender, raspberry, and blueberry bushes which my host and friend points out as we walk.The trail arrives at lake's edge. We sit on the rocks, taking in the stillness and tranquility. We're far from any sounds of the city. Norway's population is small, and the country sparsely populated. The fact that there likely a plethora of similar bodies of water throughout the country.makes this spot no less perfect.SPLASH. Kristine has jumped in and dares me to join her. I take off my shirt, leap, and feel the chilly water engulf me. I playfully swim after the nearby ducks, momentarily breaking the existing harmony as they paddle nervously away.I tread water, the sun still high in the sky at 8 PM, not a soul around, gazing at the tree lined banks.