The Peace of Wild Things | Winter Notes from Skånevik

Canadian Geese | March 2020 | De Soto, Wisconsin

I spent part of the last day of 2019 in the Alien Capital of the World: Roswell, New Mexico.

It was a brief stop on the drive back from a long winter road trip with friends, which took us from Wisconsin to Colorado and then down to the Organ Mountains in New Mexico, where we camped for several nights.

Aguirre Spring Recreation Area and Campground | Las Cruces, NM

We spent a night in Amarillo, Texas, to ring in the new year, and finished the trip home the next day.

Amarillo, TX | New Year's 2020

2020 had arrived and we had no idea what was coming.

Once home, life picked up again. My calendar was full: work, yoga twice a week, guitar class, hula hoop lessons, knitting group, live music. Everything was in motion.

And then it wasn’t.

On March 9, I saw Wilco with friends in Madison, which would be my last pre-shutdown concert. I even bought a tour poster, something I rarely do.

A week later, I was picking up what I needed from the office in order to work from home.

A final glance at my old workspace, just before I grabbed my student-made nameplate.

By the third week in March, I had packed up my hammock, tent, yoga mat, guitar, record player, stack of vinyl, new camera and hula hoop and left the city behind. I wouldn't return to my apartment until mid-May.

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” - Mary Oliver

Out in the country and immersed in nature, life slowed down in some ways and sped up in others. Working in the communications department for a public school district, COVID-19 updates came fast and furious and we needed to communicate to staff, families and our community as quickly and as clearly as possible.

Zoom meetings filled my days, but everything outside of work opened. Turkeys wandered past the windows. Deer stepped carefully through the yard. Birds stopped by to say hello. Sleeping outside in my hammock, I would drift off to the hooting of an owl.

I found myself falling back into nature's rhythm and realized I had been gone too long.

Near the end of that stretch, I drove past a For Sale sign on a rustic cabin on 3 acres.

By September, it was mine.

April 7, 2020 | The day John Prine died

The Peace of Wild Things

Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Bufflehead | March 2020 | Ferryville, Wisconsin

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First snow, and movement across the country

In my August mixtape, I had just returned to Skånevik after spending most of the summer in Bergen. Since then, there was a quiet stretch at home before another round of movement.

I said I would write again after the leaves had fallen and the first snowflakes arrived.

I marked the moment they touched my nose. It was in Oslo on November 17, while visiting Roseslottet, an 'open air art park that serves as a memorial to the occupation of Norway during WWII, commemorating the importance of democracy, the rule of law, and humanism.'

Roseslottet (The Rose Castle), in Oslo

This was in the course of my trip across the country and back.

In early November I took a ferry to Bergen, train to Oslo, then south to Son for three weeks, which included a day trip over the border to Strömstad, Sweden.

November's full route looked something like this.

La Cumparsita (2024), a mural in central Strömstad by Swedish artist Charlie Granberg in collaboration with Artscape, honors the Argentinian workers who came to the granite mines in the mid-twentieth century and introduced the tango to the town.

On November 20, I took a bus back across the country to Haugesund for an extended weekend of dog and house-sitting.

Haugesund's pink City Hall.

Four days later, I was back in Skånevik.

December feels like a natural pause. A time to get organized, make a few plans and clear some space.

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Nick Cave, Geese and a reset across the mountains

You can be free. You can be free and still come home. It’s alright. You can change. You can change, you can change. - Lyrics from “Au Pays du Cocaine” by Geese

Before boarding the bus to Haugesund, I opened Nick Cave’s Red Hand File #344. A woman from Haugesund had asked him which song he associates with genuine joy. He answered with a story about a cold morning, an icy lake, a restless mind and a song by a Brooklyn-based band called Geese.

With more than seven hours ahead of me, I put on their album Getting Killed, and listened on repeat across the country, over the mountains and down into the western coast.

Holy sh*t. Maybe the kids are alright?

Somewhere along the way, the repetition cleared out some static, and I started thinking about the year ahead, and what I might write here.

When I sit down to write these mixtapes, my head is usually swimming with ideas, but I never know quite where to start. The easiest, and most fun, are posts like the Gokstad Viking Ship’s final voyage into the new Museum of Viking History, opening in 2027. And this one, about Roseslottet (The Rose Castle), the art installation I mentioned above.

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On my dad, time and memory

Writing about personal things is harder. I recently wrote about the circumstances around my father’s birth in 1958, which made local news. My grandmother was 46, my age now, when her eleventh child was born.

He died in October 2018 of Alzheimer’s dementia, one month before he would have turned 60. His life and his death shape the way I think about time and memory.

Last week, while stacking a delivery of firewood, I thought of him again. He was always proud of his wood pile, and in 2006 he used a Polaroid camera to take a photo of it.

Time is the most valuable thing we have.

My wood pile, 2025. - Marla Peterson

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Building connection in unexpected ways

Heading into the holidays last year, I was feeling low and knew I needed more connection. On a whim, I posted in a 'House sitting Europe' group, limiting my availability to Norway. I did not expect much, but it has grown into steady relationships with pets and their humans.

The woman in Son has invited me back next August. The couple in Haugesund asked me to return in March. And while finalizing this mixtape, the owners of the cat in Bergen reached out about an opportunity in a few weeks. These relationships with my new two-legged and four-legged friends have brought me so much joy, and I am grateful for them.

I felt the need for that connection again this fall, so I started a Journaling Club inspired by Suleika Jaouad’s The Book of Alchemy. We wrapped up the November session on Sunday, where our focus was on memories and holidays. We are a small group with members in the MIdwest, U.S. east coast, the UK and here in Norway. It has been such a gift and source of light for me the last few months, and I hope to continue it into the new year.

This year I also stepped into the volunteer Editor role for the Swedish Genealogy Society of Minnesota’s newsletter and sent the winter issue off to the printer this week. If you have Scandinavian roots or simply want to support their work, the $25 membership goes a long way, and you’ll receive the print newsletter four times a year. I'll officially start writing the Letter from the Editor for the spring edition.

And to those who contributed toward replacing my stolen bike after the August mixtape, thank you. With your help, I have saved enough to buy a new one in the spring. I appreciate each of you: Joan, Cheryl, Randy, Joe, Lori, Zach and Torben.

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Skånevik, the year ahead, and a theme for 2026

Being back in Skånevik feels good. This is home here in Norway, and being away only reinforces that. The days lately are filled with remote work, chai latte sipping, long walks, cozy fires and candles. This weekend, a friend from Wisconsin will arrive for a visit and I am very much looking forward to that.

I expect an answer on my residency application in 2026. I learned last week that I missed the next processing window by eight days, which pushes the timeline further into the new year than I had hoped. I am now on my 15th month of waiting for an answer.

Even with the uncertainty, I am in the early stages of planning a trip to the U.S.

May will mark two years since I have been back. It has been a bumpy transition in the past and this time I want to approach it with more intention and care.

I'll likely visit somewhere between Waxahatchee and MJ Lenderman's Midwest tour dates and Øyafestivalen in Oslo, where the lineup will include The Cure, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, Wilco and Geese. I've also got my eye on Patti Smith in Iceland, and Emmylou's European Farewell Tour.

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Learn A Norwegian Word, and 5 Things I've Been Reading, Listening To and Inspired By Lately

A fun one for the Wisconsin folks: the Norwegian word for “badger” is grevling.

📖 Read/ing

Boy On Fire: The Young Nick Cave by Mark Mordue

My Grandmother Sends Her Regards and Apologises by Fredrik Backman

(also published in English as My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry)

Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy

The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad

Norwegian Wood by Lars Mytting

🎧 Listening

LUX by Rosalía

GETTING KILLED by Geese

SAD AND BEAUTIFUL WORLD by Mavis Staples

DOUBLE INFINITY by Big Thief

TWILIGHT OVERRIDE by Jeff Tweedy

💡 Inspired by

Lily Koppel, on why pen-and-paper writing matters

Anders Boisen, on sustainability and self-sufficiency

Bronnie Ware on Choosing Slow in a World Gone Mad

Suleika Jaouad, on The Gospel According to Dogs

Ian Andersen, on fear

Lastly, something that had me dancing around the room this week: David Byrne's Tiny Desk Concert.

December is looking up already.

Wishing you a warm holiday season and a calm start to the new year.

I'll write again once the sun is high above the mountains around Skånevik.

Marla

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