Such a pretty place...

It is no secret that I prefer books for Children to books for Adults. Anyone who knows me or sees me walking around might assume I am a teacher (well, I am, but anyway...) or that I might be a Children's Librarian. I usually have some "juvenile" book tucked under my arm. I do HAVE kids, so maybe it wouldn't be so odd, I mean I could be carrying the book for them. But, I never am. I make them carry their own books. It's a life lesson. What!? I assure you, it is! I also love movies made from children's books, and a particularly great one is The Witches by Roald Dahl. The movie is so enchanting! No pun intended! I love Anjelica Huston's portrayal of the Grand High Witch, the whole cast is DELICIOUS! Again, no pun intended... But my favorite part of the movie is the scene where they are telling the story of a little girl who disappeared and wound up living out her days in a painting. It just stays with you. It was told so well, and the paintings were so lovely, that you almost envied her living in that painting. If it weren't so sad that she was taken away from her family, you might even imagine that her "painted world" was lovely and simple and filled with quiet pleasures. Anyway, I did! Which brings me to my picture header today. This painting is by one of my favorite artists in the whole wide world. Carl Larsson. If I could live inside of someone's paintings, it would be his. Probably. The first painting is entitled Das Blumenfenster, which translates from the Swedish to Flowers on the Windowsill. Das Blumenfenster is so much more fun to say though. His palette is so lovely, his subjects so graceful, that to live in his paintings would be a treat! At least I hope to recreate a bit of his colors and atmosphere as I redecorate my new-ish home. I am fascinated by how the Larsson's ran their household as well. It is worth reading up on. They seemed a perfectly lovely family, if a bit unconventional. But, I have never been one for convention! The next painting is entitled "Old Anna". I LOVE the little black-shoed feet that barely appear in the picture! The man is a genius of the understatement! What we imagine upon seeing those little footsies, obviously their owner is up on the counter or table top. How wonderful "Old Anna" must have been! Allowing little ones to help in the kitchen, teaching them wonderful skills of baking bread, making cookies, all of her lifelong wisdom being passed from old one to young one. Oh what we miss when we don't have multi-generational families together!
With Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays upcoming, we should remember to get together with friends and family, take time to pass some wisdom along, some little something we enjoy doing or reading or looking at, take a moment to share it with someone else. It is okay if it isn't a smallish someone! Any someone will do. It is just the teaching, the sharing that is important. It is like giving a little piece of you to someone else. Whenever they think of it or do it again in the future, they will think of you as well! And they will probably smile...

Why, "killevippen", of course...

When I saw this little door on a crafty blog ( I promise I will figure it out and post which blog, but right now I am unsure of exactly where I happened upon it) I thought immediately of my blogging friend RunLoriRun. I thought it would be a rad addition to the Alice In Wonderland mural she is working on. Tonight when I saw my desktop, there was the little door, calmly waiting to remind me of another childhood favorite. Here you will find a tiny tale by the author of Pippi Longstocking's adventures, Astrid Lindgren. Even though there is no actual door in the story, this is what Nils Karlsson's door would look like if it WAS there. When I was young, this story wrung every emotion known to childkind from my small frame. There was loss, sadness, despair, loneliness, warmth, friendship, and hope. I suppose it is something of a bleak tale, but so are many stories we loved as children. We just managed to find the good among the not-so-good, remember how we had to "find the moral of the story..." This story was in one of my Childcraft books, which I looked the world over for for a year or so, until I finally found one in a thrift store. So, Nils Karlsson is introduced to another generation and Bertil lives on in the imaginations of my children. I hope they love him as much as I did.

Wild Things

Ok, I knew this was coming, but I don't think I was fully prepared for it. I may or possibly may not have started to cry as I watched the trailer here.



When I was a youngling, I did not have the
happiest of childhoods. However, I could always
find happiness and escape in the pages of a book.
This was one of my particular favorites...












Max making mischief of one kind
......and another


I read this Easy Picture book until I was well over 12 years old...um, who am I kidding? I still pull it out and read it. I have a sacred spot on my bookshelf that holds about a dozen thin volumes which mean more to me than any collectible or vintage book I own. My Where the Wild Things Are hardback is nestled in among them, as is Pierre, also by Maurice Sendak, Johnny Hop's Adventure by Mary E. Roberts, Junk Day on Juniper Street by Lillian Moore, The Story of Zachary Zween by Mabel Watts, The Cookie Tree by Jay Williams, and another personal favorite, Old Black Witch by Harry and Wende Devlin.
Sometimes I find myself cleaning off the bookshelf, or some other surface in my bedroom and before I know it, I am seated in front of that shelf with a pile of slender, colorful books in my lap and suddenly I am transported back in time. My cat Muffin has wrapped himself around my neck as I lay on my frilly bedspread and read. I love my time machine. It has a great filter. Only the good stuff is allowed to come back and keep me company. That cat was a marvel! He let my little sister wrap him up in her baby blankets and tuck him in a doll carriage. What cat does that???? I can still see his orange face peeking through her pink blankets. Only the smallest bit of his nose and eyes visible he seemed to be resigned to his fate. What a good boy! You would think he might have drawn the line at the pink surrounding him and tried to escape, but he was flexible that way. He'd stay on his back, wrapped up like that for several trips around the living room and through the hall. He'd usually slip out at some point, or be freed finally by my sister and slink off to the back of the house somewhere. Always I would find him on my pillow and as I lay down to read or listen to my 45's, he'd lie down across my chest and neck, tail around the top of my head like a fuzzy hat and we would just kind of "hang" that way. I still read lying on my back sometimes on the couch or the bed and I can almost feel him there, keeping silent company, sometimes looking up at the book as if he could comprehend all those letters on the page. I wish I had a photo of him, but I realise that it isn't necessary. He is so tied in with all those lovely books and memories that I can still see him hanging about when I get them out. Funny what you think of some times...