Showing posts with label lingonberries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lingonberries. Show all posts

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

BONFIRE COFFEE, IN FOREST


Autumn, so colourful, pinching nose with some colder temperatures. The sound of yellow and orange aspen tree leaves in wind. Handfuls of lingonberries on soft moss pillows.


Forest paths so inviting. Ceiling so high, walls not existing. Shadows and glimmer of tree and rock fields.


Bonfire to make it a real living room.


On the way, here and there.


Times of ice age and how it formed the landscape.


Secret codes, arrangements. New and old. Growing and fading again.


The stories about swamps and how everything could be lost inside. 


And then this moment. The smell. The taste. The slow rattle of fire. The forest in your coffee cup, the waving tree tops.


Slowly the aspen leaves are flying in the wind and the ceiling becomes more naked and higher. Before the stars are turned on, walking the forest paths back home.

Thank you so much for your kind comments about the Jacadi illustrations!

The mist has wrapped everything inside it outdoors today. Like looking at a white wall. Slowly it starts to open its curtains and colours appear from the other side of the small lake. 

Have a beautiful day!

Thursday, 18 October 2012

ONE FOREST STORY


One day the one that whistled in a tree, early in the morning, was found behind a window in the afternoon.


Forest walk, tummies full of berries after a cold dip in a lake. Sun shined and the moss looked warm and soft. Pillows, I saw, and mattresses, sofas and armchairs. Handfuls of berries to reach, to drink and eat. There would be everything. Dense pine branches as a roof, the hill to see the first sun rays and wave good bye to the last disappearing ones.


Trumpet orchestra of the forest hummed a slow windy song all around. 


Trees, small and tall. Some smaller, but denser ones were tickling curiosity forming a nice beginning of a path. The blue sky would not be visible under those branches.


A tree to hang your beard into. Or a tree to borrow a beard from to dress up for a royal forest dinner.


The waves rushed to the shore, the clouds to the left. Crackling fire was waiting inside with a blueberry pie. Turning bike and bicycling back home on a sunny autumn forest road. Pebbles making a nice rhyme under tires.

Warm cloudy morning greetings!