Lars Lerin spent the summers in the 1970s on a small farm in the middle of Värmland county, in Sunnemo parish. Here he learned to sharpen a scythe, how to milk and muck, saw and split wood, tie a neck. The inhabitants of the farm became his friends and he shared their worries about dark clouds and the joy of every heckler under the roof. In this story he tells about everyday wear and tear in the barn and at the fields, but also about coffee moments in the shade of an apple tree. A bygone era unfolds before our eyes, lovingly portrayed in a story that gets right under the skin.
Lars Lerin lets us accompany him to a world that no longer exists. Where the hay was dried on haystacks and the cows were milked by hand. It was a hard life. After the mowing, a pile of unwashed summer dresses and many meters of carpets await. Flower beds and vegetable plots must be cleared, the currants are ripe. And soon it will be time to go down to the lake area and dig up the carrots that the snails have eaten. Much should be sugared and juiced and deep-frozen. Much needs to be fixed and sealed.
We get to follow Lars in yet another part of his life, close and without rewriting; while skillfully documenting an era that no longer exists in our time.