Bitterna, Sweden

A man dressed in boots pours sand in the pot-holes. Maybe he is doing it on behalf of the council. But it is more likely that he has taken matters into his own hands. It is old tradition here. Every man’s right of way was granted by the ancient law of Västergötland, and the obligation to keep it passable was thoroughly affirmed.

The man dressed in boots points in the direction of the cottage; it is the first one on the left after the railway. For the past 40 years the cottage has served as summerhouse to a publisher and his wife. With a background in textiles, she now runs an art gallery, with a focus on crafts and design. He is from the area, where his father was a highly thought-of merchant. The family works in Stockholm city, but their summers are spent here, in grass and greenery, with secret chanterelle spots and forest lakes.

‘I didn’t think you could get this far away’, noted Swedish journalist and writer Mauritz Edström when visiting. And yet he was the son of deep and silent forests in the north.

It is quiet and still, you can only hear the swirl from the swallows. There is rain in the air, and they are flying low.

On the porch, clogs are lined up. Indoors the ceiling is low. We sit down at the table to have a glass of elderflower juice. The ragged tabletop is indigo blue, or possibly ultramarine. There is a simple pipe oven in the room, like a tiled stove without the tiles, once upon a time a common feature in poor homes. In the white plaster of the masonry there are three gothic vaults.

The cottage has been extended throughout the years, in order to accommodate a growing family. Today it is reminiscent of a small mansion. The impression is enforced by the two separate wings. One houses a lovely guestroom with bath, and the other a marvellous library, with books from floor to ceiling.