HE WHISPERS THROUGH PINE TREES

It was very quick, the book fair. Smiling. People coming and going, talking or just watching me drawing. An older man showing his pictures (of sheep, goats and countryside homes). He had started to draw and paint in age of 75, I was happy. Listening his story I almost forgot that I was there to work. I drew a small forest, kids around me drew on the wall their names.

Then there was a happy lunch in the city, two cats and a girl behind one window, friends around till the last train home. The last train home broke down, but I was happily asleep as long as it was working again and making its lullabying melody of going home.

Today a long bicycle trip in town. Passed a beautiful graveyard, there was a small flower shop open. They luckily had also candles there. One I lit in the graveyard for my grandfather, who surely is sitting in top of a pinewood tree now and whispering his words when the wind flies through the branches. Of fishing luck, stacks of firewood and berry picking. "I am just listening to the radio," I remember him saying the very last time we met some years ago.

Squirrels were there too to lit the candle.

Originals of these photos were taken by Darren. He is going to travel almost around the world (in my mind). Bon Voyage dear, come back home safe!

TRICK OF TWO PAIRS

A small autumn sail over the other side of a forest pond. Maybe after gentle waves there are still some cranberries hiding in the moss. Those I would need to make my running nose better for tomorrow, as I will be sailing to the Helsinki book fair. In a small booth (6e84) I will participate Illustrators in Finland and draw something small at 12 o´clock. If you are around, please come and say hi!

Boiling hot water for green tea, strawberry juice and a huge woolen shirt, two pairs of woolen socks. A trick to try to send the cold away.

You, please stay warm this evening!

BY BRUSHES, BY WEATHER

A painting by me, a painting by the nature. The first one is a book cover illustration, the second one was laying in the bottom of my father´s rowing boat as we lifted it higher on the shore yesterday at the summer house. The summer house has started to snore under a slight layer of snow. Have a good winter´s sleep summerhouse!

The radio host said good night a long time ago.

Stay warm, good night!

SHE FOUND BACK HOME

A small Thursday adventure back to Ingria to the home of Liida and Moshka the cat. A small wooden house village Peri lies after a short swaying train trip from St. Petersburg. Firewood, Liida´s kisses, chai, buckwheat porridge and purrs of Moshka. Liida´s childhood stories fill ears and mind. Those stories my aunt and I recorded on tape in 2007, it is lovely to listen to them. "Now I don´t want to remember anymore," she could say. But continued to tell to our eager ears more after a few moments again. Unbelievable things of old times.

"Now my darling, eat a little bit more, then you can have a small rest on my bed". But I played with Moshka, who came to Liida through the fence because there was no one to take care of him.

For the afternoon break I wish I could stop by at Liida´s for a chai to listen a bit more about her life and to see how her harvest of this year was. Cabbages, garlic and apples. Flax, cucumbers and carrots.

The whole set of pictures from Peri can be seen here.

A few lonely snow flakes floating, have a good Thursday!

SPARKLING FROSTY MORNINGS

A childhood scenery. A house that I passed every morning on the way to school. It was a long way and all the children in the neighborhood got a taxi ride. There was a lot of time to wait in the crossroad before the taxi gathered us all. No lampposts, winter mornings were cold and dark alone. Always waiting when the two roaring lights would appear from behind the forest curves.

The house I passed every morning and afternoon is my old neighbor house and there were two boys, twins, who I babysat for 10 years. Last December I painted as a commission their house and the boys as children in their beloved wellingtons. Fetching logs to keep the house warm on a frosty morning. Wellingtons which they loved on cold winter or hot summer days. Inside their grandmother would butter a bread and cut it in cubes with a knife and give it to their beautiful first dog, Kipi, piece by piece, staring and giving each others time enough.

Have a good late morning, and a good new week!

WHITE HEAVY LACE FROM SKY

Windy and stormy. Cold hands. First snow. Just lovely.

TREASURE BOX

Words on a postcard, words on an envelope. Words handwritten in between words printed. Words coming through mailbox, in magazines, newspapers. Words on the radio. So many words put together, always a new meaning. Words through a phone, making me laughing.

For the words handwritten, I made a box to keep them safe. Knitting while layers of paint are drying. Small birds of summer forests have moved to the town and are now seeking for winter food in balconies and yards. No breadcrumbs, but maybe a pocketful of seeds secretly to the lilacs bushes of the yard (which is strongly forbidden).

Warm Wednesday thoughts,

Anna Emilia

IT LOOKS LIKE SPRING, YET IT IS AUTUMN

One can get confused of the colors outside. The greyest tree, going to the winter´s sleep had pink dots hanging like strangers in its branches. Tree, the winter is coming and you cannot scare it away with your beautiful colors. On Tuesday it might be snowing. Or not.

A weekend of my favorite radio host playing records. A weekend of an inspiring lecture by Halldór Úlfarsson and the instrument he is building. A weekend of street musicians. A girl playing in winter clothes, picking strings and singing. A bit further a boy and a bagpipe. A bit more further a boy and a guitar. Happy home-coming of pedaling.

The most fragile, still very strict handwriting of my grandmother in a postcard thanking for remembering her 90-years birthday in the summer.

Now brushes, paper and watercolors. A bit of the cold wind through a closed window. Later bicycling up a hill of colorful wooden houses.

How has your weekend been?

Apple pie and tea,

Anna Emilia

FEATHER ISLANDS, LAND OF DREAMS

Is it a tail of a lion which colors all these mornings golden? As quickly as it comes just after the sun reaches above the tree tops, as quickly it also turns to a more colder and brighter color. Just moments. All those yellow polka dots in the trees I would like to protect from the asphalt and a rake with a piece of tape. To make them hang and sway through the winter.

The article that I illustrated tells about sleeping and good dreams. "Sleeping is not about being lazy, but a responsibility." Enough, but not too much while being in the feather islands.

Michael and Neil sent me a wonderful postcard, an original painting by them. Thank you so much!

Lunchtime. Clinking and clanking while a parsnip soup boils,

Anna Emilia

P.s. Edit: The first image was forgotten.

BROTHER AND HIS LITTLE SISTER

There is a secret message between a wall dividing our rooms at our parent´s. It is written on a piece of a cross-ruled paper with a pencil and it was a try of our safe plan if another one of us would become bored with friends visiting. I have forgotten what that message says, but it was supposed to be a secret help shout to the other one to come and rescue the situation. "It is just a sound of a mouse", when pushing a note to the other side of the wall. Next time I will pull it from that secret hole and read it again.

Weekend was a pretty one, mist layering everything most of the times. Relatives, food and sauna in the darkness. In candle light, wrapped in towels with lady relatives, we sat outside of the sauna. In a sudden all the chatter was gone. A lonely swan was crying while flying over the black lake. Something had to have happened to the bird as the voice was so sad. The saddest sound I heard in a long time. Maybe the bird´s loved one was gone.

The timber summer house was snoring, I slept with earplugs on.

Happy new week, sounds and scents of a moss green forest!

(Second picture taken by my brother.)

ONE RASPBERRY CAKE, PLEASE

Hello dear October,

Lovely to have you here.

Sounds of woolen socks on the wooden floor. Mist covering everything. Would it be like this to live in a glass of soya milk? Mornings with candles, evenings with candles. Paint strokes on a light blue background. Light pink, turquoise and brown.

Finishing some paintings, bicycling to the post office to send orders, going to search for a vanilla colored white wool, heading to a summerhouse nearby with my family, knitting that wool (hopefully) to a hat to keep ears warm.

How are you?

October wishes, weekend wishes, warm thoughts,

Anna Emilia

P.s. Mama, keep your eyes closed till Monday as this is your birthday card!