Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

A tale continues, or is it the start of a new......

text and images britt-arnhild

I promised you to continue my Bath tale, and I will. Though I am not quite sure if this one will be of Bath or if it will be something completely different. What I do know is that it will be of colours. My love of colours. Love of colours shared.

Come, sit down on this charming back garden bench in secret Bath with me, will you? Accept the cup of tea I´ve made special for you, rest, and listen to the story:

Once upon a time there was a little girl who walked out into the world, searching for the rainbow. A bluebell here, a lemon butterfly there, a red dress, an orange sunset, green grass to dance on with purple dancing shoes, indigo for deep, wonderful secrets. Day in, day out she collected colours. Knowing that she was filling up her pockets with drops of the rainbow, made her smile a lot and  gave her sweet goosebumps. 

She loved her treasures.
She loved to find them.
She loved to collect them.
She loved to share them. Pour them out, trying her best to make the world a better place.

One day, after years and years of collecting, her pockets never overflowing, as she always continued to share, she met another women. Dressed in the rainbow, sparkling with every colour you can imagine, and beyond.

At first the girl was shy. She picked up words written by the rainbow woman, and again and again and again she read............about travels through the painbox, around the world.  Dreaming that she was walk the bridge of colours with her.

The more she read, the more she dreamed, the more she dared.

Then, on a bright green day, she finally found the courage, looked directly into the eyes of the paintbox woman and told her:

"I share your deep love of colours"

 

The little girl had grown up. One colour lover meeting another.Together the two women sat down on the white bench, opened their pockets and shared secrets.

 

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This tale is inspired by an extraordinary meeting. Almost 10 years ago, I found, by chance (?) a book in a tiny little bookshop south in Norway, Colour. Travels through the Paintbox by Victoria Finlay. I bought the book, read it, then read it again, and again, lent it out to a friend, got it back and read it again, made sure my friend bought a copy for herself and continued to read my own copy.

The rainbow calendar in my Lent book was created when I slept with Victoria´s book as my pillow.

Two weeks ago I was in a meeting, preparing for my trip to England. We were a group of four from the church and the municipality of Trondheim who would travel to England to meet people from ARC, Alliance of Religions and Concervations, and the newly formed Green Pilgrimage Network.
Reading the itinerary, my eyes fixed on one spesific name, Victoria Finlay. I cried out "Victoria Finlay, DOES THAT MEAN THE VICTORIA FINLAY?????"
The others looked at me, not understading, but one of the men googled the name and said: "It says here that this woman has written a book called Colour"

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Well, to make a long story short. I met Victoria in St.Albans, we travelled to Bath together, she works for ARC with her husband Martin Palmer (who you met yesterday) and a few others. Along the road we shared tales.......

......and hopefully we will continue to do so.

Link to ARC

Link to Colour

Link to Victoria Finlay´s site

An image reflected in a mirror, a rainbow
in the sky, and a painted scene
Make their impression upon my mind, but in
essence are other than what they seem
Look deeply at the world, and see an illusion,
a magician´s dream

The Seventh Dalai Lama: "Song of the Immaculate Path" 
Quoted from the preface of Colour. 

Blue inspiration in the Blue Garden

text and images britt-arnhild

I took some time out....

....and inspiration came with the wind.

Now I am ready for another busy week.....

.....with at least one exciting adventure coming up

Are you ready for another travel?

 

There are friends and there are friends and there are friends.....

text and images britt-arnhild

I am sure you know it just as well as I do; there are friends and there are friends and there are friends. A rainbow of them, with red for love, orange for art and creativity, yellow for fun, green for a fresh start, blue for the long talks, indigo and violet for the more troblesome though when it works the most interesting ones.

Different lists can be made for different days, different parts of the year, different periods of life.

Take yellow for example.

Yesterday yellow meant a party of twenty around a long, bright table, it meant a starter with a taste of spring, a main course of fish to be reminded of Jesu diciples and all the meals they shared of fried fish, a mixture of sweet desserts and a lot of wine for fun, happiness, for being together.

Anne Lise and Dagfinn, a couple who loves to open their huge home for friends. Always the best food, always songs, laughter, tales, making new friends, caring, singing....

Over the last few years Terje and I have been included in Anne Lise and Dagfinn´s circle of friends. Over the last few years it has become a lovely part of of our annual cycle.

Last night was one of those colourful parties. This time with yellow, playful, lively, happy yellow as the dominant colour.

Thank you Anne Lise and Dagfinn. You are teaching us so much of friendship, ov sharing, of openness.

We are filled with memories from last night, and we are already looking forward to a next party :-)

Colours, and a hunt for Luca Signorelli

text and images britt-arnhild

There are so many colours to be seen.

Everywhere.

One of the best things about London is - NO SNOW, no icy roads,first spring flowers blooming.

And then there all the colours.

And all the hidden treasures to seek out.

I went to look for one of the hiden treasures, a painting by Luca Signorelli, the old Italian painter.
Can you remeber I looked for him in Venice as well? 

Without finding him.

This time The National Gallery was my goal. I knew from my reading that they have several of Signorelli´s paintings.

Coming in I went right over to the information desk and asked: "Please sir, may you tell me where I can find the paintings by the Italian Luca Signorelli?"
The man behind the desk search on his computer for some time: "I am sorry Madam. It seems like we have only one Luca Signorelli, and is is hung in a gallery which is open only on Wednesday afternoons"

No Signorelli this time either?
But what about my collection?

 

I walked on anyway. The National Gallery has so many wonderful treasures.

I enjoyed Rubens for a long time, then decided to comfort myself with other Italian masters. A guide lead me over to room 58 and 57: "You will love our Botticellis Madam!"

Of course I do. They are all gems. Dreamy. Perfect.

On my way out of the gallery, a long time later, I walked through room 60.

And there it was.

THERE IT WAS!

Luca Signorelli´s The Adoration of the Shepherds

 

Not in a hidden, closed gallery.

But there for me :-)

Doors, writing and eternity moments

text and images britt-arnhild

Anne asked me on facebook the other day: "How far are you with your book?"

Not far at all, is the correct answer, though there is a lot more to it than that.

 

I am writing all the time. I've done so all my life, ever since I stated my first diary aged 5. These days I write my blog first thing in the morning, I write the travel diary, I have a notebook for this and that, I write my ordinary diary, I write letters and postcards, and the first day on Madeira gave me the draft of a short story/legend. Ideas for several books follow me, but for the moment they are all somewhere out in the blue. Each book hidden behind a colourful door. Keys hard to find.

 
All except one, the poetry book I am helping my father to edit is running straight on the tracks, with the publisher waiting for mine and my father's next step.

 

Writing comes easily to me. The words are there and I pick them like candies from a cone. There are tastes I like better than others and this is what I am working on. To find the whole rainbow, get to like all the different tastes.

I am working on a travel book, but from what I read of my own writing so far, I am far from being interesting for any publisher.

So far this hasn't stopped me from writing. I search the words, I rewrite, I erase and I start all over again. And I am having a lot of fun in the progress.

Sometimes I wonder if blogging takes too much of my energy, if I leave too much of my creativity here. Leaving too little for other writing.

Then one blog post suddenly get a whole bouquet of comments, I get an unexpected email from a new blog reader, or, like yesterday, I get to share all those blessed eternity moments with you.

Then I know that I can't stop blogging. It is too precious to me.

And over the almost 7 years I have been blogging, it has become a wonderful way to keep a diary.

I will keep on blogging. I will keep on writing, I already have one book published and I know there will be more.......some time.

And I will keep on sharing eternity moments with you.

Thank you for sharing your moments. They brough tears to my eyes and they also sent me a flood of memories from other precious moments in my own life.

Picking one winner?

Oh my, that's too hard. I need another day or two to decide.....and I wish I bought a lot more dish towels.

The photos are from decorated doors in the old part of Funchal, Madeiras capital. We were lucky, there was a small, very charming cafe close to where a group of young girls were busy decorating one door, supervised by their enthusiastic parents.

Of course there was suddenly time for coffee.

The Autumn Colours are not gone

text and image britt-arnhild

While driving I was listening to the radio. A combination of light talk, light music, with some news in between. 

It was relaxing, and kilometer after kilometer was left behind.

The young radio voice had a local dialect. She presented some more music, she talked about this and than. I hardly listened.

Then, all of a sudden my ears opened. The charming voice talked about autumn, about too much rain, too much fungis killing the colours of autumn. The birches this year are losing their leaves even before the colour changes. there would be no woods dressed in orange, red, yellow.

I looked out the card window. No autumn colours?

So what is this I see along the road I am driving?

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Let me tell you a well known secret - the radio voices and the television faces, most of them live in Oslo and see just a tiny little bit of our long, varied, beautiful country.

Dear radio voice, may I invite you to drive with me one day and share autumn colours with me. It will be my pleasure.

Canals, laguna and dinner at La Piscina

Text and images Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
First thing we did at the airport was to buy three 7 days tickets for the actv-boats, the vaporettos. Venice/Venezia is for walking, a lot of walking, but to get along easily you also need the vaporettos. Lucky us, on our way from Mauro's workshop to dinner we found seats outdoor in front of #2 which goes down Canal Grande.

 
Venezia, just like I dream it.

 
With history told in water, stones, colours.

 
Can you imagine life in a Canal Grande Palazzio?

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First night in Venezia I always go to Zattere for a pizza. A tradition I have come to love deeply. Yesterday I took Terje and Marta there, only to find out that "my" pizzeria was closed on Tuesdays.

Well, this lead us to the next restaurant, La Piscina (a pensione and cafe with several names over the years) which turned out a wonderful choice. The restaurant had a brief history included in its menu, and while enjoying a simple meal of bruscetta and pasta (only water, we were too hot and tired for wine, had been up since 3am to reach the plane), I could read about the artists which were in some way connected to the restaurant and the pensione. The most known for me was Ruskin (Stones of Venice) who stayed at Pensione Calcina (an old name of the place) from the 13th of February to the 23rd of May 1877. On May 14th Rainer Maria Rilke writes a letter addressed to Princess Marie Von Thurn und Taxis-Hohenlohe from here.

 

From our table we had a best view over to the island Giudecca and Palladio's Redentore church (by the way, Saturday will be the celebration of Redentore, and I KNOW we are in for a lot of fun!)

 
Back home on another vaporetta, through Cannaregio, passing under one of my favorite bridges (don't quite know why it is a favorite) Ponti Tre Archi

 
And out into the laguna.......

 
.....where we met The Creator during his painting hour.

The Rainbow Flowers and the Camellia

Text and images Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
The rainbow play an important part during Lent for me. Readers of my book will know a lot about it, and if you have read my blog for some years you will also know some.

Lent has seven weeks, the rainbow has seven colours - one colour for each week.

The first week I planted paprika seeds, red, the second week tagetes, orange. Tiny plants are sprouting, sign of spring, of hope in all this falling snow. A couple of nights ago I decided it was time to buy more seeds, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.......I want the whole rainbow in my garden.

After coffee and the news at 7pm, Terje and I drove over to the closest garden center, packets of seeds and planting soil on our shopping list.

I gathered what I needed, and then we decided to walk around a little, enjoying, gathering ideas for The Blue Garden.........when we suddenly came to a rack of camellia plants! Camellias in Norway? Is that possible? The prize tag showed an almost impossible prize, but there was no way around. I simply had to have a camellia!

 

 I saw my first camellia in Copenhagen a few years ago, in Tage Andersen's shop, and was hooked there and then. I wrote blog posts about my passion, and one time a dear blog reader, Debbie in California, sent me a camellia seed (or is it called a nut?). I tried to plant it, without luck, and had to tell myself that camellias for me had to be enjoyed on travels, through photos, in my dreams.

Untill now. Just now there is a camellia blooming out in our hallway, hopefully the temepratures there are the best for it.

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A link to one of my posts from Tage Andersen's flower gallery in Copenhagen

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Two dear friends came to my mind in the garden center when I found the camellias - Debbie in California, Preben in Copenhagen who first showed me Tage Andersen's shop.

When we came home from the garden center the other night I opened my computer - to find a comment in my blog from Debbie. Coincidence?

This morning a message from Preben found its way to my heart from my facebook wall - the snowdrops have been blooming here in Copenhagen for a few weeks now. They remind me of you and Our Lord! Coincidence? (Why me and the Lord you might ask? :-) Well, that's about a legend I wrote, in Norwegian, about God giving colour to the snow with the help of the small snowdrops. The legend, printed and handsewn/binded was my Christmas gift to family and a few close friends last Christmas.)

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Today's memory post - socks and camellias in London February 2009

 

I packed three pairs of socks in my suitcase. And yarn for more sock. The first pair was given away already in Oslo, the second pair was meant for Roz, the third pair was for my friend Carol whom I met at Leicester Square Thursday afternoon, and with whom I spent a wonderful afternoon and evening browsing Covent Garden market, eating at Bella Italia, enjoying Phantom of the Opera.

I never met Roz, and I didn't want to bring the pair of socks with me back to Norway, so what to do? I knitted during the conference. One day one of the ladies came over to my table. "Your socks are so beautiful. I wish I had a pair. Then I could keep my feet warm when I work." "So please tell me, what do you do for working?" "I sell sausages outdoors, and it is so cold now with the snow we've had this winter." The second pair of socks got a new owner there and then.

   

I wanted to photograph the socks I knitted in London while I still was in London, but I kept on forgetting. All untill the last day, on my way to Paddington Station and the Heathrow Express. Struggling with a heavy suitcase, again I bought too many books, I passed a small square, Sussex Garden, and I knew it was my last possibility to photograph the socks. Businessmen on their way to work almost forgot to swallow their coffee on the go - a crazy woman in Sussex Gardens photographing socks! But nobody knew me, so I just kept on with my task......

Leaving the garden I saw a blooming rose bush near the gate. Roses in February? I took a closer look and relaised it wasn't roses at all. So what could it be? Can it be a Camelia? Debbie, please help me, is this a camelia?

I had to stop and find the socks once more. Socks in the camelia bush!

   

   

Birds brought me the morning light

Text and image Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
Some mornings it feels like the light, the colours, the birdsong is given especially to me. Challenges easily hide colours, it's paintbox is filled with grey. I open the box and paint, sometimes slowly, often almost with fever, in a hurry, rushing.....digging myself deep, deep into the grey, praise the world and its creator for the lovely range of grey shades......completely forgetting that the world is filled with colours, with light, with birdsong.

 
Yesterday morning was such a grey morning. I had slept badly, had been too busy during the night to paint my world grey. I had a long, grey walk, on slippery, icy roads......believe me, icy roads are all grey. Icy, slippery roads also mean that you have to look down, down, down, be careful where you place your feet, if you take your eyes away from the ground for a second you will be sure to fall. Fall grey.

 
Try to keep on looking down at the icy path when the air fills with birdsong. It is impossible. Completely impossible. And even though you take your eyes away from the ice you won't fall. The birdsong steadies you, holds you, fills you completely with light, with colours, with beauty.

The light, the birdsong.........it washes away all grey. It paints your world with beauty, with trust, with hope, with light.

It is magic. God's magic.

Winter's Beauty

 
I can't remember a November as cold as this year. really I can't. Snow came early and then the temperatures fell like stones.

 
From my office window I can look out on a beautiful world. Blue sky with lines of deep pink in the morning and the afternoon, a winter sun, almost white, clean white snow covering the ground, snow in the trees, still falling leaves.

 
In the morning when I walk my 30 minutes to work it is dark, darker every new morning. In the afternoon when I walk back my 30 minutes it is getting dark again, darker every day.

 
Even I, the Nordic summer girl, must confess that this frozen world is beautiful. A beauty almost out of this world.

 
But the days are so short. No time to enjoy the beauty.......being in it.....only watching it from my huge window, which opens to the cathedral park, the river, the old white castle of Trondheim, Kristiansten festning.

 
The days will be darker still, for several weeks.

I am trying to teach myself to see its beauty. You need the darkness to know what light is.

The photos are from last week-end, The Blue Garden. You remember the day I walked out to shot photos and when I came back inside to download them found Marta's pieces of art.