Last week in visuals

Down South.

I decided to pick some blueberries in preparation for the breakfast next day.

Our gig on one of the islands. Obviously an actual storm hit when we arrived.
Everything tried to fly away, from the music, to the music stands, to like, the sound stuff.
It was super. My inner storm wolf was pleased.

Beach attire. We stayed at my auntie's house, which is next to this lake.
Needless to say, I spent every minute I had to spare there.

The pianist dude we're driving around with said the other day that we've passed the 4000km mark.
Happy July!

We gigged at this manor house as well.
And the owner is a super cool man.
Best idea in the world - hammocks all around the place.

My auntie's house.

SÜGIS

 
 I'd like to speak elvish. That would be cool. The Tolkien kind of Elvish.

I would like to spend my entire autumn in that room (the last photo) with the leather sofa and the big map. Just planning, planning, planning my next move. Planning the next spring and the next summer. Eating bread that A. has made, and smother it with the triple citrus marmalade that I've made. ("Maria's Marmalade", of course.) I'd sit there and I'd plan. And therefore every autumn I wouldn't think well, this is silly, why the hell must I wear clothing, but instead, I'd know that this was time to plan. Proper hibernation.
And I would always have candles on the windowsill, so I could say "lights will guide you home", or at least will guide you to me. I think that's why I like the Estonian day for spirits ("hingedepäev"). It's somewhere very beginning of November. And it's just to commemorate. And you know, in case there are any lost spirits or souls out there, lighting candles so they know how to find their way. It is just lovely. And I like it so very much. It just triggers some sort of sentimentality, in me. And I like candles anyway.
Tomorrow might be a day for a cracking cup of cappuccino.

The one benefit of autumn is that I want to cook more. And I don't mean make food, but seriously cook. Something like the lamb ravioli and broth below. And bake. Because, I mean, cake and autumn is just something else.

Really working at this autumn thing.
Love,
M.

3.47

3 hours and 47 minutes.
Concert number 12.
Once that's completed we can officially say we're over the half-way mark.

We're stopping at my aunties big yellow summer house for a day. I stayed there for summers on end when I was a child. It has now become one of those memories that's best described or felt through a smell, or I remember it as a smell. A smell of, pinetrees, and water, and pastries, and sand, more importantly sandy summery footwear, and creaky stairs, and somewhat dusty mattresses. And tea too, but fresh peppermint. What a smell, eh.
Those were really really good, old-fashioned, honest childhood summers.
There are still berries EVERYWHERE behind the house. Marvellous.
And I get to be there for a night. And swim morning-evening-morning before we drive back. And there's a nice little food place on the highstreet.
Two weeks ago the old neighbour heard I was staying for a bit and came along to say hi, with a big pot of fresh honey.

Maybe I should move, or at least spend more time away from Tallinn during the summer. Tallinn is brilliant and it's my city through and through, but during the summer it seems like everyone else is having more fun. Wrong choice of word maybe. Not fun necessarily, but, more at ease? And kind of allowing themselves to enjoy sunshine and notice the fact that everything is green, and lush. Maybe because there's so much more greenery when you leave Tallinn.

Well, whatever it is, there is this peace in the countryside.

Into the blue, and green, and pink, and golden,M.