Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Caring Bloggers Rose Day, May 10th!

More than two years with blogging, moving fast on my way to 200 000 page viewers, more than 500 posts written and about 5000 comments recieved. Little did I know in January 2005 how blogging would change my world. Blogging has been an eye opener, and more so because of all the friendly feedback you give me, because of all the lovely and caring blogs I read, because of the bloggers I have met, in real and over the world wide web, because of all the friendships I've developed during these years.

The blogging world is a place where love and caring is shared, and as a thank you from the deepest of my heart, I want to send out a bouquet of roses to all caring bloggers and blog viewers. 

My idea is to make May 10th the Caring Blogger's Rose Day. Let's pay forward that day some of what blogging has given us. Use a rose as a symbol and show the world that we are bloggers who care.    

I've made a series of cards using a few of the photos I've perviously used in my blog, and will send a collection to one of you.

All you have to do is write a comment to this post with a link to your blog (or your e-mail address). And please invite your blogger friends over. The winner will be announced on May 10th, the Caring Blogger's Rose Day!

I've got the idea to this from several places. Some time ago I was the lucky winner of the most beautiful lilac cards over at Beachys Cape Cod,and the winner of an Apple Blossom kit at ULLA's, Teresa is having a Pay it Forward giveaway these days, and Corey gave away the most wonderful roses to her blogging friends the other day. And last, but not least I will not forget the sweet taste of Ilva's roses!

Booktalk on a Sunday - 13

Alberto Manguel has written a very interesting book about reading, A History of Reading. I've had the book in my shelves for years, but it was only yesterday I started to read it. I had been visited this wonderful blog, and inspired by all the colourful cross stiched samplers there I started to look around in my own livingroom - a wall with samplers/letters cross stiched on linen, other walls filled with books, books filled with letters. But so much more than that. Letters telling stories of life. Stories of life reflecting my own lifestories, lived and dreamed.

A History of Reading is filled with information about how reading has and is affecting our lives. From the very first letters/signs written in stone or painted on walls, till what reading means today. And it is filled with informantion about what reading has meant for the writer. A book like this captures me totally. I'm glad it's Sunday!

I learned to read when I was 5. I don't think anybody taught me the art actually. Suddenly one day I knew the meaning of the letters, I knew how to read them and I knew how to write them. A new world opened. My parents and grandparents had read me stories untill then, and they kept on doing so. But now I was also able to read books myself. I have a collection of my first books at our cabin, and just by thinking of them I can still feel the texture of the paper they are printed on, I can smell them, I can remember their stories. I can remember myself as a girl, captured by them.

Reading soon became a passion, a passion which has followed me for 45 years now. I have three younger brothers, one of them only 22 months younger than me. As soon as I discovered reading I knew that this was something I had to teach him. I wanted to show him this wonderful world. I had to be patient, he was busy with so many other things. Reading didn't attrackt him. But I was a stubborn and determined teacher. There are pencil marks in all my first books, marks to show how far I made my brother read every day. In the beginning just one or two words, then the pencil marked a ), but as the days went on he managed more words.

My brother grew up to become passionate about books. These days may be even more than me.....

In our neighbourhood there lived an old couple (well, at least we looked upon them as old). They had no children, but they were booklovers. And in their basement they had a room completely filled with young adult books. Series with cowboy&indian books, The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew....and alot of others which I don't know the English titles of. The old couple understood the thirst for books in me and my brother, and they opened their home for us. We came there at least once a week and could borrow as many books as we wanted. It was heaven, and I am forever thankful for their hospitality. And for their understanding.

I have tried to pass on my love for books to my four kids. Since they were toddlers I've read aloud for them, and their book collection grew, and are still growing steadily. Only one of them has become passionate. Torgeir, our student in Australia. But it seems like Marta is on her good way. From time to time you can meet her walking down the stairs from the first floor, stumbling, with her eyes deep in a book.

I plan to share more reading stories, but meanwhile I'd love to hear some of yours!

Venezia

I am still reading The Wings of the Dove. Meanwhile I have a guide book to recommend this week, Venice, Art & Architecture by Marion Kaminski. Unfortunately the books is a bit too heavy to have in the backpack while walking Venice. But it is a tresure chest, filled with history, art, photos, paintings and much, much more. I can dream myself into La Serenissima for hours through this book.

Just a little "something" before I end this post. RennyBA visited Trondheim last week-end and wrote this about MY city.

The keyhole.

A key is needed to open the heart. To see the inside beauty. Old key or new key, it doesn't matter, but the key must be the right one, you need to put the key in the hole and twist around.

What do you find inside?

Often I look at the keyhole, being too busy to stop and care for what I can find behind. I meet someone and believe that I know the person from what I see, forgetting that what I see is only the outside.

Yesterday I drove north in my diocese to meet a group of "visitors" - women who give from their time visiting seniors, visiting lonely people. On the way there I stopped at a medieval church for some quiet time, some praying time, some time with God. And through these keyholes God spoke to me.

Never believe that you know a person at first sight. Never believe that you know a person from what you think you see. Every person is My creation. Every person is unique. Every person is loved by Me. Every person has his or hers life stories to tell. Stories of love and loss, of beauty and sadness. Use the keys I have given you to open their keyholes. Take Me with you when you walk through the door. And you shall be blessed.

Two angels.

Sunday School story.

(for Sunday Scribblings)

Two angels spend their days flying between heaven and earth. The One is strong and proud, with a big, heavy basket. The Other looks weaker and more colourless, a little shy, and has a smaller basket which looks almost empty.

The One is carrying men's prayers. The Others search high and low for men's thanks.

I read Miss Garnet's Angel during my Venice week, and knew that angels were playing close to me during my stay. One morning, when looking out the bathroom window in Nati House, I saw the two basket angels from my childhood's Sunday school. Do you want to join me in filling The Other's basket?

The first photo shows angels from my collection. The other is the bathroom window in Nati House from where I can hear the morning song of the glass blowers across the canal.

A Traveller's Year - April (+ Thinking Blogs)

Travelling is about seeing new places, but just as important and fun is meeting old and new friends. During our week in Venice we were lucky to meet up with several. Paolo, Giulia and Natalia (the owners of Nati House) invited us to dinner one night. Marta and Natalia are both 11, one speaking Norwegian, the other speaking Italian. But friendship knows no borders. They took photo of each other and exchanged e-mail addresses, and learned to say "my name is...." in both languages.

Dagmar came down from Austria one day to go to Burano with us, and another day we met Maria and her family (from Vienna for Beginners) for coffee and gelato.

During the month of April I am not only travelling to other countries, I am also busy travelling through the blog world. During my week in Venice, and also after I came home, I have been surprised to see that I have got several Thinking Blog Awards. Other bloggers visit my blog regularly, and give me the feedback that they like what they read. I'm dancing with joy!

It started over at Sheila, continued in the blogs of Cris and Annie, and yesterday I found my name in Tracy's blog. Thank you dear friends. I feel deeply honored.

I read several blogs daily. Here you have five of my favorites: Roz, Linda, Charlotte, Ilva and Corey. Go over to take a visit, enjoy what you see and send them my love.

One day I plan a world tour, and then my blogging friends will have me at their door. Keep the coffee hot!

The door bell is from a door in Burano. How can you resist visiting people with a door bell like this?

Celebration.

My first visit to Venice was in 1972. I was 14, I had three small brothers, and my parents took us all to Italy for the summer, driving down from Trondheim/Norway with an old Amazon and a caravan.

We stayed at Lido di Jesolo for two weeks, and during this period we visited Venice one day. It was a hot day, and it was before the golden area of credit cards. My father had his traveller's cheques, but found no where to change them on a Saturday. Kids on vacation in big, hot cities are not always the most patient creatures, and as time went on we became warm and thirsty. Still no banks open.

In the end my parents found an open travel agency which agreeded to change one of the cheques for lire, and with fresh money in his pocket my father took us to the first restaurant he could find. FLORIAN on St.Mark Square. Two coffee and four cokes were ordered, and we got two huges surprises: the coffee wasn't enough for one mouthfill, how could they know that coffee for an Italian meant espresso? The bill was high enough to fill wathever!

It has become a favorite family story!

I am an April child, and celebrated my birthday during our week in Venice. My plans for the day were set long before we arrived. Murano for lunch, Florian for a late coffee. This time Terje and I ordered cappucino though, and we knew that the bill would be a fortune:-)

The music, the atmosphere.....

......and a nice walk and vaporetta ride home after a perfect day.

Told without words.

Venetian lace

Though I have been to Venice several times, I had never visited Burano before. During my visit to Venice last year, I by accident stumbeled over Jesurum, and bought the most beautiful napkins there. During this visit I was determined to visit Burano, the lace island.

There were two things I wanted to do when visiting the small island north in the laguna. See the beautiful coloured houses and feel old lace in my hands.

Finding the special Burano houses was easy. They were everywhere. Finding lace was also easy, but feeling old lace run through my fingers was a more difficult task. Lace was everywhere, but how old was it?

Then we passed the sign to Martina, went in, and I was hooked. And as soon as the shopkeeper understood that we were going to buy some of her lace, she became quite interested as well. She took us up some stairs to a closed museum on the first floor where she showed us the most amazing pieces of old textiles made by generations of women on the island. The very best pieces were made using seven different lace stiches, which again meant that they were made by seven different women, each specializing her own stich.

Today's lace is usually made with fewer stiches, and the table cloth we ended up buying is made by three different ones. Still it is a beautiful piece of art, perfect for the new sofa we purchased a few weeks ago, and the old sofa table made by my father in law in the 1950ies.

Lace was everywhere on the island, and wandering around we even met a few women stiching the oldfashioned way. Both I and Marta ended up with handkerchiefs and other small pieces. I have a basket with my Venetian lace collection in front of me while writing this, and love to feel the texture run through my fingers. Old or not, my fingers love the lace.

Booktalk on a Sunday - 12

Though there are so many books I want to read all the time, I am also very fond of rereading favorites. And that is exactly what I am doing right now. I am reading The Forest by Edward Rutherfurd. In May-July 2005, I read this book together with the yahoo group Armchairtravelling. Mary, who is a member of the group, lives near The New Forest, and during our reading she started a blog where she posted photos and stories from her daily walks in The Forest. The blog is still running and is an almost daily pleasure for me to visit. And Mary has been kind enough to let me borrow a photo from her wonderful archive of Forest Photos.

I have read several of Rutherfurd's books, starting with London, and love his style. Amazing stories to follow, and at the same time alot of historical, natural and geographical information.

Venezia

Are you tired of my Venice books by now? ;-) Well, I still have alot more to talk about. Being home with the flu this week has given me some extra reading time. We are going to Rome in July and I am looking through by "books about Rome"-collection. I realized that it is even bigger than my "books about Venice"-collection, so when I have gone through all my Venice books I can start with the Rome ones........But that's future.

Mary Laven has written a very interesting books about Virgins of Venice (ha, the lady in the photo is not a virgin to illustrate the book.....) The book is about the lives in the convents of Venice in the 16th century. The convents were then places where noble families "dumped" their unmarriageable daughters. A very interesting book about the life in the convents, the life in Venice in general and how the women were able to cope (or not cope) with their fate.

"It is my country, and I love it"

April 21!

I know.

I know!

I know!

It is my country though. And I love it.

And yes, I believe in miracles :-) (welcome to my new creation - Britt-Arnhild's Blue Garden)