This one is for Geo.

Dear Geo., 

on your blog "Trainride Of The Enigmas" you wrote about that haunting experience in your garden, "Pumpkin Demon" (scroll down on the right to reach it, 6 days ago) and I am so glad that Norma was able to take a stunning photograph of it.

I asked you if I am allowed to draw that little monster - and here it is:

Pum P. Kin. 

You might have heard more of his distant cousin - who lives under the name of  Potem P. Kin
- and that says it all... 
Over-zealous he added one "P" too much, sometimes writing it out into Pjotr, claiming that his roots clung to noble Russian soil, (his knowledge of Russian aristocracy is ... erm... a bit weak, and only by  hearsay) You remember when once he tried his luck as an architect? The customers admired the beautiful fronts of the houses - but entering they were not content, too much fresh air...
His newest projects are different versions for Cindarella's pumpkin coach, digital of course.

So, you see, there is a vast difference to Pump P. Kin, who is a friendly and honest creature.

But it is easier to tell about the bad guys!   :-)

Yours truly,
Britta 

Stormy Weather

Dear You,

Look what happened, twice!
The wind smashed the great pot of oleander - the oleander survived (well, he has a long practice from clinging to the centre strip of the autostradas in Italy...) but the pots--- not...

For weeks now we have a very strange wind, hot, it reminds me of the short story of Raymond Chandler, "Red Wind".

"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge."

To strengthen my jumpy nerves I started drawing again - since I call it "illustrating" I love it more, because that takes away the stress of higher aspirations. I am not an artist as Rachel or Tom or Cro - just an amateur who knows quite well that I paint way to precise, use far too small brushes (but have a good eyes for colour), and as the storm blew me a twig from a plane tree in front of my feet, I used it for "my little daubs", as Miss  Mapp always put it, looking in the hope for getting approval. 

She - not me!   :-) 

I always forgot to ask: Do you draw as a hobby? Or how do you use your creative talent?

Yours truly, 

Britta