My grandmother lived in a house that was over two hundred years old. She often told stories about her childhood in Sweden from where she had been sold to a Danish farmer at the age of 16.
Her garden was an adventure in itself, and there was always a lot to do — chopping wood, picking apples, flowers, strawberries, digging up potatoes, cutting branches from the trees, painting the house. My grandmother fetched water from a well, and got a telephone very late in her life. At her house, everything was understandable; the fire gave warmth, the house gave a shelter, and the sky gave sun and rain.
My grandmother has had a strong influence on my life, and since her death, I often have conversations with her in my dreams. This series of pictures was printed more than ten years after she passed away. It is a little homage to a dear person.
