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

Intoxicated by the smell of limes

photo Britta 

Dear You, 

These days Berlin smells like a heavily perfumed woman - the lime trees flower and their honey-sweet smell comes into every room - wonderful!
I'm glad that I am here at this time! 

"Frau Toni" is a perfume manufactory in Berlin as you know, because you once asked me which perfume I wear, and other than my friend Hildegard I do not keep that as "TOP SECRET". So you know that I use No. 37 - "Violet" - which was the perfume of Marlene Dietrich - and is not half as heavy as it sounds.
(By the way: this is in Germany the only perfume that contains violet - you have to travel to Paris to get one from Serge Lutens)

And this "Frau Toni" has also created an air freshener (perfume for a room - which I normally detest) that is called "Berlin" - and is limetree-flower smell in a bottle - heaven!

Outside I often see bees or bumble bees that lie on the ground - if you bend and listen carefully you'll here them bawl songs as

                      "Let's go for a drink, forget it from now,
                       Put it behind you, I think it's your round.

                       Cause you're my mate and I will stand by you,
                       You're my mate and I will stand by you...." 

Right Said Fred - so help that little totally pissed little mate on a place where no-one might trod upon it...

Yours truly, 

Britta

Stairway to Heaven? (Does anybody remember laughter?)

photo Britta 

Dear You,

Yesterday I had an appointment with my dentist. 

I must show you the flight of marble stairs quite typical for the Bayerische Viertel, the Berlin quarter where I live - oh yes: of course there is an elevator when you reach the first floor (er - yes - that's where the railing ends! And should I better use "if"? If you reach the first floor? Don't worry: a doctor is in the house...) 

I might have told you (have I? I learned a very valuable lesson there a few days ago) that my fitness-studio still offers only a third of the work-out places: so my dentist offers me a good training. For free! 
No problem for a fit person as I... 

Unnecessary to mention that the elevator is - locked down. 

A dentist can not easily treat patients who are wearing a mask over their mouth :-) 
Another valuable lesson here: We have to trust each other. 
(When my sister was five, the dentist in Bremen sent her home - she refused to open her mouth...) 

But I am (almost) grown-up: 
I gave him a big smile. 

And smiled even more when I heard: "Everything is ok". 

Almost lost my glass slipper when I hurried back down! 

Yours truly,
Britta 

PS: The house where I live is a bit similar, but luckily there are only three marble stairs till you reach the little elevator. 
Our stair carpet is brown, not red - and can you imagine: a thief silently robbed all the brass poles - up to the 4th floor! Nobody noticed... 

By-effects of the lockdown

photo: Britta 

I read Rachel's post and answered this way (added here a bit):

"Many friends, including me, feel odd these days, Rachel (as you write: only sometimes).
One word, should I describe my feeling, is "UNREAL".

The many pretty trees (I love them!) in Berlin help to get that impression: you walk in a street and the light is green - as in a fishtank.. :-)

Unreal, because everything fades a bit, loses colour (only a bit), the sounds become muffled (or are not there).
I never had one, but to me it seems like a global depression: we are waking up in the middle of the night, worrying about the world of thousand things, monkey mind active like hell...

A feeling, that the world around us is still THERE  but covered in a ball of cotton.

There, but in some distance (might I make an educated guess? 1,5m distance?)  

The world is THERE (of course, and will be there long after us), but my feeling signals: it is not really HERE, the world.
Query: maybe I am not really here?


I love fairy tales more and more. I feel like Snow White in her glass coffin - I am alive, but sort of sleeping.  Want to disgorge that poisoned apple.
Feel thin-skinned. Vulnerable. Prone to tears. Unreal. Locked in <- That word describes it nicely, I think. 

Or even better: locked down.

Well - I'll drink a tea now. Might start to read Wilkie Collins again: "The Woman in White".
Or "Wild Sargasso Sea" by Jean Rhys - or Jane Eyre - all locked up women...

Song in the background: "Wake me up, when it's all over..."

Summer Solstice and Midsummer Madness

You might wonder about this photo - I took it in Noordwijk where I saw that the evening sun in my back was mirrored in the window of a holiday apartment.

As to solstice: the Flying Dutchman mentioned it quite often last month - and I always reacted a bit annoyed: Why mention it NOW? Why not wait? What do you want to express with it?
(I learned that the Dutch fear darkness - darkness in "full" daylight, I mean - and right they are, too many grey clouds can get you down. BUT: why think about that when the sun is shining brightly?)

I am not a paragon of patience.
My friend Christine tries to teach me for years (she is a paragon of patience!): "Don't cross the bridge before you reach it!" 

And though I am a great midnight rambler (to be exact: I ramble at three o'clock in the morning, heavily trying to puff up many balloons of worry - and I have a lot of breath!) I can abstain from worrying about the rhythms of the year.

I love spring, I love summer, I love autumn, and yes: I love winter too.
I see qualities in each of the seasons and do not want to miss one.

Tom is polishing his silver candlesticks. He is prepared. The Flying Dutchman is that too.
I - honestly - lit the 5 candles on my candlestick every day when I eat dinner.
Paradox: I make that moment special by something I do every day.

Though I confess: I break out in spots if I hear another mentioning of "Achtsamkeit" = "mindfulness" (a whole industry is thriving on this) - of course I enjoy when people really enjoy things -- but spontaneous please, not "holy" (if you get what I mean).

PS: Where is the Druid, the blogger Heron, by the way? 

Outlander.

Today I did something VERY unusual for me - to be honest: I think it was the first time ever. 

A friend of my friend Anne had told me that I MUST watch a TV series, MUST!  

She is Scottish, I didn't know her, but liked her, thought "MUST? I?" and when I heard "Outlander" I thought: No way - Fantasy is absolutely not my cup of tea. 

Later I bought it, stacked it away, didn't watch it, almost forgot it. 

But today I suddenly thought: "Well - might have a look." 

(It was a sort of Scottish day - rainy... And now so stormy, that I cannot upload a trailer or a photo...) 

You must know that I am a great fan of Scotland, and to the surprise of everyone I even love bagpipe music (normally you can make me mad with many sorts of music - I hear like a bat and really suffer). 

Well. And there I sat. And stared. 

And fell in love immediately, without any sign of forewarning. 

Well - I only saw the first episode - but I think: "Louis, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." 

Better late than never.    😂