This sepia is partly fake.
The trolls are made of brown, burnt clay.
They were popular in the seventies, I got two for a present. The others I have found on flee markets, one by one.
They are solid indeed and live outdoors all seasons.
For a year they have been guarding our outdoor fireplace, and done it well.
Normally, or tradition says so, the troll burst when the sun rises. They live in our largest mountains and have done so for hundreds and hundreds of years.
Norway was Christened in year 1033, but the trolls have kept on living in peoples imaginations till about year 1900.
Lots of our fairytale describe how the brave little Ash-lad conquered the troll against all odds, and thus won the princess and half the kingdom.
Hosted by Mary, the teach
Learn more about Sepia Scenes here.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
THE RICE AND FALL OF MY PEONIES
The longer I work in my garden, the more I believe in flower power and flower wisdom.
We had a cold and dry May and first half of June.
I visited my Peonies, cuddled for them, begged them, but the slowly developing buds wold not fold out.
Midsummer came with warmth and I let them drink for a day or so.
Next morning they unfolded in the sun.
Revealing the most precious beauty one could imagine.
After some dry and sunny weeks, spreading joi de vivre to all mankind and insects as well, the leaves started falling. Leaf to earth, dust to dust, thus returning the life they had spread.
O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
William Blake
We had a cold and dry May and first half of June.
I visited my Peonies, cuddled for them, begged them, but the slowly developing buds wold not fold out.
Midsummer came with warmth and I let them drink for a day or so.
Next morning they unfolded in the sun.
Revealing the most precious beauty one could imagine.
After some dry and sunny weeks, spreading joi de vivre to all mankind and insects as well, the leaves started falling. Leaf to earth, dust to dust, thus returning the life they had spread.
O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
William Blake
Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)