The weather has been much better all day than for the last few weeks. No more snow, and the wind has died down. Now and then a few drops of rain fall. There’s a milky-white veil over the landscape. Mist, typical for this time of year. The first swathes of it are drifting over from the outskirts of the woods toward the meadow and the house. It’s late afternoon, and the day will soon be coming to an end. Dusk is slowly gathering.

He walks toward the house. The post is stuck between the metal bars over the window beside the front door. If there’s no one at home, the postman always leaves the post here. It meant they didn’t need a mailbox. And it’s only occasionally that there’s no one at all at home on the farm. Usually someone is there to take the post in, and, if not, then there’s the window next to the door.

A newspaper is stuck between the two bars and the window pane, that’s all. He puts it under his arm, takes the front-door key out of his jacket pocket. A large, heavy, old-fashioned key made of iron. It shines blue-black with much use over the years. He puts the key in the lock and opens the door of the house.

When he has unlocked the door, stale and slightly musty-smelling air meets him. Just before entering the house he turns and looks in all directions. He goes in, locking the door again after him.

He follows the corridor through the house to the kitchen. Opens the kitchen door and goes in. Gets the fire in the stove going with the wood left over from this morning. Fills the steamer with potatoes just as he did first thing today. Feeds the animals and gives them water. Milks the cows and sees to the calves.

This time, however, he doesn’t leave the house as soon as he has finished work in the cowshed. He goes out to the barn, takes the pickax he has left there ready, and tries to dig a hole in the floor at the right-hand corner of the barn.

He loosens the trodden mud floor with the pickax. But just under the surface he meets stony, rocky ground. He tries in another place. No luck there either. He gives up his plan.

Tamps down the loose earth again and scatters straw over it.

He goes back to the kitchen. Hungry after his strenuous work, he cuts himself a piece of smoked meat in the larder. Takes the last of the bread from the kitchen cupboard. A sip of water from the tap, and he leaves the kitchen and the house.