Norwegian wildflowers

It's 7pm and both children are sleeping. I'm settled on the wooden terrace with a cup of tea and two lemon creme biscuits shaped like flowers. A putt-putt fishing boat with a jaunty Norwegian flag at its stern is on its way out. There is supper to be made. But I'm thinking, what's the rush?  What's the rush on this old codfish-colored day?  If the weather keeps up, there is a Stave church to visit in the morning or even a trip to Fevik, because I'm interested to see where my friend Lucy spent her summers (though it's a three hour drive through Porsgrunn, Bamble, Kragero and Arendal and I'm still not so wild about the stick-shift Skoda I'm driving, Volkswagen engineering notwithstanding).  And so I leave you with the flowers that sit in a bla eng jug in the middle of the table (I'm cheating a bit, this picture was taken on Saturday night when the sun was out, and my aunt was here and the light was pink.)  These are wildflowers picked in the lane.  Good day from Norway.