Winter is gone

Winter wonderland is gone and now it is traditional Icelandic weather, which means 5 degrees (41 F) rain and stormy winds. At the moment it is terrible windy and wet! Our darkness has also arrived and soon it will not be many hours with day-light. But soon it is Christmas time and Reykjavik will be filled with lights and candles.

Anna Björks teeth problems starts to come to and end and she is not whining as much as before. Yesterday she was full of energy and at at weak moment I was not watching her, she took a shower from the glass of milk she recently asked for. I was cooking and when I did not hear anything from her I realized she was doing something she was not suppose to do. And I got a shock when I saw she was all wet in milk trying to wash her wet hair and jumped up and down in the pool of milk on the floor...

Talking about Christmas I would like to share our special tradition – which is a bit different from the European and American way of Christmas, even though last 10 years has got influences from the American way of celebrating. The Icelanders are crazy in decorating the houses with lights in different colors. I think it is beautiful with white and blue but can’t really stand the red color. On our house all balconies are decorated with red lights – something that was decided at the house association. For me as a Swedish it reminds me of “red light district” I have seen in bad cop movies. This year I think I will put up other colors too… I hope they will not complain :)

Now to the old tradition: There is not only one “Santa Clause” coming at Christmas day, no, we have 13 called The Yuletide Lads. The story tells one by each comes down from the mountains and if a child has been nice during the day the Lad will put a present or a candy into the shoe, the child has put into the window. However if not being nice the Lad will put a potatoes into it. Gryla, which is the mother of the Lads’, is an evil one and it was very important to be nice otherwise she will take the children and eat them for supper. This was of course very scary for the children and now days no one never really tells the children this. 13 days after Christmas it is time for the Lads to go back to the mountains and for greeting them big fires are made and lots of fireworks displays.

Now days this tradition still is however on the 24th of December we have European tradition too with Christmas tree, Christmas gifts and the “santa clause” – the one that look like in the Coca Cola commercials. It reminds me of the movie Christmas Vacation were The Griswold family's plans for a big family Christmas predictably turn into a big disaster. I have it on DVD at home and I watch yearly at this time when starting to long for Christmas! LOL

This I found on the internet telling the story about our Yule Lads:

The Yuletide Lads.

Let me tell the story of the lads of few charms, who once upon a time used to visit our farms.
They came from the mountains, as many of you know, in a long single file to the farmsteads below.
Grýla was their mother - she gave them ogre milk - and the father Leppalúdi; a loathsome ilk.
They were called the Yuletide lads - at Yuletide they were due - and always came one by one, not ever two by two.

Thirteen altogether, these gents in their prime didn’t want to irk people all at one time.
Creeping up, all stealth, they unlocked the door. The kitchen and the pantry they came looking for.
They hid where they could, with a cunning look or sneer, ready with their pranks when people weren’t near.
And even when they were seen, they weren’t loath to roam and play their tricks - disturbing the peace of the home.

The first of them was

Sheep-Cote Clod. He came stiff as wood, to pray upon the farmer’s sheep as far as he could.
He wished to suck the ewes, but it was no accident he couldn’t; he had stiff knees - not to convenient.

The second was

Gully Gawk, gray his head and mien. He snuck into the cow barn from his craggy ravine.
Hiding in the stalls, he would steal the milk, while the milkmaid gave the cowherd a meaningful smile.

Stubby was the third called, a stunted little man, who watched for every chance to whisk off a pan.
And scurrying away with it, he scraped off the bits that stuck to the bottom and brims - his favorites.

The fourth was Spoon Licker; like spindle he was thin. He felt himself in clover when the cook wasn’t in.
Then stepping up, he grappled the stirring spoon with glee, holding it with both hands for it was slippery.

Pot Scraper, the fifth one, was a funny sort of chap. When kids were given scrapings, he’d come to the door and tap.
And they would rush to see if there really was a guest. Then he hurried to the pot and had a scraping fest.

Bowl Licker, the sixth one, was shockingly ill bred. From underneath the bedsteads he stuck his ugly head.
And when the bowls were left to be licked by dog or cat, he snatched them for himself - he was sure good at that!

The seventh was Door Slammer, a sorry, vulgar chap: When people in the twilight would take a little nap,
He was happy as a lark with the havoc he could wreak, slamming doors and hearing the hinges on them squeak.

Skyr* Gobbler, the eighth, was an awful stupid bloke. He lambasted the skyr tub till the lid on it broke.
Then he stood there gobbling - his greed was well known - until, about to burst, he would bleat, howl and groan.
* dairy product - like yoghurt

The ninth was Sausage Swiper, a shifty pilferer. He climbed up to the rafters and raided food from there. Sitting on a crossbeam in soot and in smoke, he fed himself on sausage fit for gentlefolk.

The tenth was Window Peeper, a weird little twit, who stepped up to the window and stole a peek through it. And whatever was inside to which his eye was drawn, he most likely attempted to take later on.

Eleventh was Door Sniffer, a doltish lad and gross. He never got a cold, yet had a huge, sensitive nose. He caught the scent of lace bread while leagues away still and ran toward it weightless as wind over dale and hill.

Meat Hook, the twelfth one, his talent would display as soon as he arrived on Saint Thorlak´s Day. He snagged himself a morsel of meet of any sort, although his hook at times was a tiny bit short.

The thirteenth was Candle Beggar- it was cold, I believe, if he was not the last of the lot on Christmas Eve. He trailed after the little oneswho, like happy sprites, ran about the farm with their fine tallow lights.

On Christmas night itself - so a wise man writes - the lads were all restraint and just stared at the lights.