tirsdag den 23. oktober 2012

My Grandfather

Do you know how it feels to miss someone who has been dead for sevaral years? That's how I feel these days. My grandfather died 7 years ago, but I still miss him. He was my hero. During Worl War II he has sent to the German concentration camps and lived to tell the tale. He was the perfect gentleman. He was funny, polite, knew how to complement the ladies. And then he was creative. He painted large paintings of dark forrests with gigantic pinetrees and gloomy moors. He enjoyed life eventhough the skeletons was lumped together in the closet.

Todays pages are about him:


When he died I inherited the suitcase he used to store all his tubes of paint in. I'm planning on haning it on the wall. I think it's pretty and it reminds me of him and his passion for painting.  But if he knew, he would shake his head in disbelieve and mumble somthing about young people nowadays. 




Autumn leaves



When I was younger I didn't like the autumn. I hated the cold weather, the rain, the fact that all the leaves would fall off the trees.  As I've grown older I've learned to love the fall. I love when the leaves changes colour. To read storys to my kids as it gets darker outside. Candlelights and cinnamon tea...