Alma painted the Easter-egg heads that are sitting on the windowsill. It means your children are growing up when they’d rather paint Kant, Descartes and Nietzsche (l. – r.) than chicks and bunnies.

It’s May, and I’ve opened the windows.  They are locked tight during the winter and though it’s much warmer that way, we lose any connection with the outside –

where the birch trees near the house are now becoming greener by the day.

The windflowers are still thriving,

so are the daffodils,

and so is Tops.

Vesla had a haircut on Sunday.

It’s always a surprise to see how small she really is, like the front half of a pantomime horse.

I’m not the only one who thinks so.

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