In 1883 my great-grandfather emigrated from the family farm near Kirkenaer, Norway, to the North Dakota plains. Across the years the location of the farm was lost to us, but this week, thanks to the detective instincts of my brother Lin and my Norwegian publisher Forlaget Press, I've become the first of this generation of Engers to walk on the ancestral sod.
It's a working farm still, hard on the Glomma River, with mountains in the distance and a rootcellar that dates to the 16th century.
On the road at present so unable to produce more than this succinct 5x5. More to come.
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