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.