Roots

This past weekend, we visited a small town called Clifton. They hold an annual Norwegian festival all weekend long with not just arts and crafts, but dancers, luncheons, and presentations from the town folk.

Since I only have one grandparent left, I knew this would be the place to take my little guy to teach him about our roots. He loved the food, the Scandinavian cookies, the wood carving demostrations, and was just lit up all day. He was a sponge soaking up all of this new information and stood in awe for quite awhile near the yarn making woman. I spent my time speaking in length to the woman making lefse, and she has e-mailed me her personal recipe for which I will forever be indebted.

As we finished a traditional lunch of meatballs, potatoes, beets, green beans, and rosette cookies, my little man approached one of the volunteers and said, "Norwegians are nice people."