9 april 2016

The Story Girl

The Story Girl is a 1911 novel by Canadian author L. M. Montgomery.
 It narrates the adventures of a group of young cousins and their friends
 who live in a rural community on Prince Edward Island, Canada.

The book is narrated by Beverley, who together with his brother Felix,
has come to live with his Aunt Janet and Uncle Alec King on their farm
while their father travels for business.
They spend their leisure time with their cousins Dan, Felicity and Cecily King,
 hired boy Peter Craig, neighbour Sara Ray and another cousin, Sara Stanley.
The latter is the Story Girl of the title, and she entertains the group with
 fascinating tales including various events in the King family history.
"I do like a road, because you can be always wondering what is at the end of it,"
 once said Sara Stanley, also known as the Story Girl.
She is enlightening and brings about a glow to the reader's heart.
The sequel to the book is The Golden Road, written in 1913.
The Story Girl was one of the books which inspired
the Canadian television series Road to Avonlea.

I WAKENED shortly after sunrise.
The pale May sunshine was showering through
 the spruces, and a chill, inspiring wind was tossing the boughs about.
"Felix, wake up," I whispered, shaking him.
"What's the matter?" he murmured reluctantly.
"It's morning. Let's get up and go down and out.
I can't wait another minute to see the places father has told us of."
We slipped out of bed and dressed, without arousing Dan,
who was still slumbering soundly, his mouth wide open,
and his bed-clothes kicked off on the floor.
I had hard work to keep Felix from trying to see if he could "shy"
a marble into that tempting open mouth. I told him it would waken Dan,
who would then likely insist on getting up and accompanying us,
and it would be so much nicer to go by ourselves for the first time.
Everything was very still as we crept downstairs.

Out in the kitchen we heard some one, presumably Uncle Alec,
lighting the fire; but the heart of house had not yet begun to beat for the day.
We paused a moment in the hall to look at the big "Grandfather" clock.
It was not going, but it seemed like an old, familiar acquaintance to us,
with the gilt balls on its three peaks; the little dial and pointer
which would indicate the changes of the moon, and the very dent in its wooden door
which father had made when he was a boy, by kicking it in a fit of naughtiness.
Then we opened the front door and stepped out, rapture swelling in our bosoms.
There was a rare breeze from the south blowing to meet us;
the shadows of the spruces were long and clear-cut;
 the exquisite skies of early morning,
blue and wind-winnowed, were over us; away to the west, beyond the brook field,
 was a long valley and a hill purple with firs and laced with still leafless
beeches and maples.

Behind the house was a grove of fir and spruce, a dim,
cool place where the winds were fond of purring and where there was always
 a resinous, woodsy odour. On the further side of it was a thick plantation
 of slender silver birches and whispering poplars; and beyond it
 was Uncle Roger's house.
Right before us, girt about with its trim spruce hedge,
was the famous King orchard, the history of which was woven
 into our earliest recollections.
We knew all about it, from father's descriptions,
and in fancy we had roamed in it many a time and oft.

26 augustus 2014

~Jane Austen

jane austen2 illustratrie C. E. Brock, 1898

Jane Austen illustrations
C. E. Brock, 1898

jane austen1 illustratrie C. E. Brock, 1898jane austen3 illustratrie C. E. Brock, 1898

29 mei 2014

~The Velveteen Rabbit

Margery Williams

“Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much.
He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off,
and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown
spots faded. He even began to lose his shape,
and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more,
except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful,
and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about.
He didn't mind how he looked to other people,
because the nursery magic had made him Real,
and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.”

The Velveteen Rabbit
is a children's novel written by Margery Williams
and illustrated byWilliam Nicholson.

It chronicles the story of a stuffed rabbit and his quest
to become real through the love of his owner.
The book was first published in 1922
and has been republished many times since.

Read the whole story HERE!!


Katharina Hepburn
“Life can be wildly tragic at times, and I've had my share.
But whatever happens to you, you have to keep
a slightly comic attitude.
In the final analysis, you have got
not to forget to laugh.”
by Katharine Hepburn

7 februari 2014

~Eileen Soper

 eileen soper
Eileen Soper was born Enfield, Middlesex, 26 March 1905,
the daughter of an illustrator, George Soper.
Along with her elder sister Eva,
she attended Olive Downing’s School in Knebworth and Hitchin Girls’ School. At the time of her father’s death, in 1942,
she was worked primarily as an illustrator,
notably with the children's author, Enid Blyton.
Eileen illustrated the entire series of Famous Five adventures
and a vast range of other books.
In addition she authored and illustrated 23 books of her
own that displayed her growing talent for wildlife illustration.
She was a founder member of the Society of Wildlife
Artists in 1964 and was elected to the membership of the
Royal Society of Miniature Painters in 1972.

eileen soper
Then rather like a character from Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping she let much of the rare flora planted by
her father return to a state of wildness and even allowed
the animals of the garden into the house.
She shared this singular location with only one other human,
her somewhat shadowy sister Eva.
Eileen died in 1990,
Eva outlived her by only six months. The estate and copyright of George and Eileen Soper are now in the care of the
Chris Beetles Gallery.eileen soper


8 december 2013

~Poem for Christmas!

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863)
wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas
also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822.
It is now the tradition in many American families
to read the poem every Christmas Eve.


“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
Poem by Clement Clarke Moore
Image~by svetoknz

31 oktober 2013

~Happy Halloween!!!

Dennisons Bogie Book c.1925

Dennison’s Bogie Book c.1925

15 mei 2013

Hilda Hechle

“Come buy from us with a golden curl”
by Hilda Hechle (1914),
from Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market”

7 mei 2013

~Vintage Book

S. Louise Patteson

 How to have bird neighbors
by S. Louise Patteson, 1917

27 april 2013

~Palmer Cox

Palmer Cox
(April 28, 1840 – July 24, 1924)
was a Canadian illustrator and author,
best known
for the fictional creatures known as
the "Brownies  his series of humorous verse
books and comic strips about the mischievous
but kindhearted fairy-like sprites.
The cartoons were published in several books,
such as The Brownies, Their Book (1887).

Palmer Cox  
Palmer Cox is famous the world over for his
delightful children's books .
" His inspiration for the Brownies came from
the Scottish folklore that still survived in
and around Granby, Quebec, where he was born in 1840.
Cox learned these folktales from his mother which
featured the Brownies, or little members of the fairie
or goblin world: "imaginary sprites who delight in harmless pranks and helpful deeds. They work and sport
while weary households sleep, and never allow
themselves to be seen by mortal eyes.

Palmer Cox
~More to read~

3 april 2013

I am only one, but still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
but still I can do SOMETHING
and just because I cannot do everything...
I will not refuse to do the something
that I can do!.
~Helen Keller~

art unknown to me

15 maart 2013

"Each leaf,
each blade of grass
vies for attention.
Even weeds
carry tiny blossoms
to astonish us."
- Marianne Poloskey

I found this on Facebook
but no name of artist
but I had to share, this is soooo wonderful and amazing
don’t you think?

12 februari 2013

Oraciones en el sauce

Oraciones en el sauce / Prayers on a weeping willow
by Diego Peñuela on Flickr

This illustration was part of "A song for Japan",
a beautiful project by PechaKucha Night Bogota,
done for the victims of Japan earthquake, 2011

7 februari 2013

26 januari 2013

Henri Gervex

La Toilette
by Henri Gervex.
French Academic Painter (1852 - 1929)


17 januari 2013

The Story teller will tell you the story
about the


1911 Edmund Dulac

1911 Edmund Dulac from
Stories from Hans Andersen
The Snow Queen 

and in the centre of this lake sat the Snow Queen,
when she was at home.”

13 januari 2013

the secret garden by inga moore

One of my favorite books!
The Secret Garden
Illustration by Inga Moore

11 januari 2013

~Have a lovely weekend!

Herbert Gustave Schmalz

Queen Of May
by Herbert Gustave Schmalz

9 januari 2013

Jacob Hendrick Maris

by Jacob Hendrick Maris

8 januari 2013

~Vintage book

else wenz
Magical illustrations by Else Wenz-Viëtor,
one of Germany's most well known
and prolific children's illustrators...

This wonderful book is my own dutch copy
I bought on flea market.
 else wenz v

Vincent Vidal

Young Lady Saying the Rosary,
by Vincent Vidal.
French (1811 - 1887)

7 januari 2013

John William Waterhouse

John William Waterhouse at his easel

5 januari 2013

Jean de Brunhoff

Illustration of Babar the elephant
by Jean de Brunhoff.

3 januari 2013

Alexei Ivanovich Korzukhin

by Alexei Ivanovich Korzukhin

2 januari 2013

Marianne Stokes

The Frog Prince
by Marianne Stokes (1855-1927)

24 december 2012


I truly believe that if we keep telling
the Christmas story,
singing the Christmas songs,
and living the Christmas spirit,
we can bring joy and happiness
peace to this world."
~ Norman Vincent Peale (1898-1993),



22 december 2012

Once upon a time,
I thought faeries lived only in books,
old folktales, and the past.
That was before they burst upon my life as vibrant,
luminous beings, permeating my art
my everyday existence,
causing glorious havoc.
~Brian Froud

20 december 2012

Swan Lake
Swan Lake
Prague 1970.
Illustrated by Ludmila Jiřincová.

19 december 2012

Mireille Havet

Mireille Havet (1898, Médan, Yvelines - 1932)
was a French poet, diarist, novelist, and lyricist.

She wrote lyrics for songs composed by 
John Alden Carpenter and intended for Éva Gauthier. 
She wrote a novel, Carnaval, published in 1923.
She was friends with Jean Cocteau and Colette,
who referred to her as “la petite poyétesse”.

Her diary, which she kept from 1913 to 1929,
was only found again in 1995,
and published in 2003.

(source: Wikipedia)