I thought about you today when baking your muffins. Yes, the ones that you always baked for your dear late husband...
He loved them - and hunting, both wild game and women. And you raised the children, decorated your home - I admire the beautiful stencil painting you did - and sat beside Johan Ludvig's bed when he was paralyzed and needed company. I heard you could read from many languages aloud and translate simultaneously to Swedish. And you could write, too.
|- But mum, what shall we do the whole winter? - At least now we'll have some coffee. Tove Jansson.|