Where Trouble Melts Like Lemon Drops - Afternoon Musings at Naturbyn

Originally posted May 31, 2021

Two men sit on the dock across the lake chatting. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but the music playing from their speaker carries smoothly over the water to where I lie on my stomach.

Their playlist jumps from, “Here Comes the Sun” to Eric Clapton’s “If I Could Change the World,” and I’m instantly reminded of childhood car rides with my family — The five of us piled into the Mazda, somewhere between Greensboro and Pleasant Garden with 99.5 WMAG as the soundtrack — I wonder to myself whether or not Delilah is still the evening host.

I hear kids playing in the forest. I can’t tell exactly where their laughter is coming from, but it seems they must be near the forest treehouse.

It’s nearly dinner time now.

Eric Clapton ends, and “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” begins to play. The trees sway along as the wind blows, and the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves accompanies the tune. Even the sun joins in on the dance. It reflects off the water’s surface like glitter in a brilliant display of one of my all time favorite things — sun sparkles.

We’ve only been at Naturbyn for a few hours, but my troubles are already melting like lemon drops.

Thomas, the owner, architect, carpenter, and mastermind certainly has created an oasis here.

The water is almost perfectly still now, save for the occasional fish bobbing to the surface.

Time almost seems to stand still… until the next song.

It’s in Swedish. And, all of a sudden, I’m very much reminded where I am. Not in the backseat of my parent’s minivan, but, instead, in the center of a lake somewhere in Värmland, Sweden… at what might be one of the most peaceful and incredible places I’ve ever been. Despite the beauty surrounding me, I can’t help but feel a little wave of homesickness. 18 months away is way too long.

Andrew has just woken up.

Go figure — we come somewhere this beautiful, and the lullaby that sparks my creativity — my desire to grab my notebook and write it all down, to try to capture the moment and bind it to the pages of my journal to save forever — It’s the same lullaby that lulls him right to sleep.

Fair enough. It does sound exactly like a white noise playlist… except, it’s life. And we’re here.

I don’t know if the tears in my eyes are to be blamed on my allergies, or because, sometimes, despite all that is bad in the world — all the hate and sadness and negativity and despair — there are moments like these. The ones that are so beautiful you could cry.

The ink in my pen begins to run dry, and I realize just how much I’ve written. It has been ages since I’ve put words on paper so freely and fluidly.

I suppose it’s easy in places like this.

The words practically fall out of the pen, onto the page, and write themselves.

In the distance, I spy a herd of cattle that have come to drink at the lake’s shore.

Now I’m really reminded of home, and all the summer days spent entirely outdoors — Walking to and from my cousin’s house through the pastures, always being careful where we stepped after hopping over the electric fence. Catching and releasing fish like the one that just bobbed to the surface in the hopes of catching dinner. Chasing cows... Being scolded for it — the disapproval of parents didn’t sting quite as much back then.

I start instinctively counting the cows, but, before I can figure out how many there are, they graze off, as quickly as they came.

Smoke rolls out of the forest from across the lake. The family from Denmark must be cooking now.

It’s nearly 7:30 in the evening, but the sun is still high in the sky. I love the long days of Swedish summer.

The tranquility of the lake is disturbed for but a moment by the sound of a plane flying high overhead, its exhaust leaving a thin white trail in an otherwise cloudless sky. As a kid this would prompt me to ask my mum who was drawing in the sky... I can’t recall her answer now, but I do remember that she never seemed to grow annoyed with my constant silly questions.

Suddenly, I’m miles away... wondering where the plane is headed, just like I used to as a kid.

But, this time, there’s one big difference... I don’t wish I was on it.

I am as content as I’ve ever been, and, in a place like this, who wouldn’t be?