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Let’s celebrate!



Miss Allona Treefriend is living in the Black Forests near the Giant Mountain in a tiny little wooden house under a huge oak tree which is more than 500 years old. She lives there together with her best friend Gustav, the squirrel.

Miss Allona Treefriend and Gustav are always together – they never even take a single step without one another.
And what they love most of all is: They like to swim in the little lake around the corner near the oak at night in the moonlight – while the fireflies are buzzing through the air.

Every year when the spring is painting the plants and the leaves green her sister Anna Acorn – living pretty far away in the White Forest near the Grey Mountain – is visiting her to have a wonderful spring party.


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Another “Becoming Absolutely Inspired Day”



Lot’s of scribbling, sketching stuff and painting today, left the table and laid down on the ground (different perspective).

And finally I left the house to enjoy the surprising winter weather and took some origami cranes with me (my son and I decided that we actually should try to make 1000 origami cranes within one year).

I have to admit that I find it very relaxing to make this origami work in the early morning – and I like it quiet, no music and nothing;  just to concentrate on eacvh fold, feeling the paper. I think it’s a very good way to exercise the hands and fingers – something really important for a crafter.
Wanna make an origami crane, too? Have a look here.

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Beim Morgenspaziergang übten mein Sohn und ich ein Gedicht, das er für die Schule lernen muß – und fanden es in jedem Punkt so schön bestätigt in unseren Naturbeobachtungen.




Oktober kommt mit blauem Rauch,
der Wind will Äpfel pflücken,
und gelbe Birnen gibt es auch,
und Süßes reift im Brombeerstrauch,
du brauchst dich nur zu bücken!

So rot und gold wie Feuerschein
steht nun der Wald am Hügel.
Das Eichhorn sammelt Nüsse ein,
der Falter sitzt am warmen Stein
und breitet weit die Flügel.

Ein Spinnwebfaden fliegt im Wald,
es raschelt auf den Wegen.
Der Häher schreit, die Nacht wird kalt,
und auf die Wiesen wird sich bald
der erste Rauhreif legen.

Ursula Wölfel