who found her dream house.

Here it is. The only problem with living here is that... well, I would have to be a whale hunter. Actually, I would have to marry a whale hunter.

That would not be cool.

But the house sure is; it's a museum now. The builder put his initials in iron over the front door, and then his sons after him did the same. It's almost on a cliff, and when you look through the white windows, past red geraniums, this is what you see...

All the women would stay in this house while the men went out to catch whales. They sat at the windows, and looked out at the North Sea, and waited. While they waited, they baked, and cleaned, and knitted and made lace and ribbon. There were lace stockings and knitted sweaters and children's nightgowns hung up in the alcove beds. They were just the color of the sheep we passed on the way there. The front entryway had a dutch door, but in Plaat Deutsch, the Dutch-esque dialect that was once spoken here, it's called a chatting door.

This (above) is the dowry chest, in the special party room, where weddings and christenings were celebrated. The light streaming through the window is reflecting off of the sea and shining through with extra brightness, almost like a prism. 

The tiles were all hand-painted here and fired in the oven. Any surface not covered in blue and white tile is painted, like this door, which went from the kitchen into the living room. It's all blue and red and white... like home. : )

After the tour, we spread out across the grass to picnic. We ate Leibniz butter crackers and cheese sandwiches and watched the sky change above our heads.