Half and half

When I was little and growing up, my parents had, and still do have, a matryoshka doll. The hand-crafted and painted, wooden mother of five that squeaks the worst song when birthing one of those said daughters. She was lovely and I loved playing with her, just as my nieces love playing with her now. This lady is of mixed blood. She's no pure-bread that is for sure. By boat I'm sure, she was brought to me by either Ukrainia or Russia, they both claim her, but as for me and my house, we believe she is from Russia just like our dear grandmother.

When in Berlin with my handsome husband, we saw beautiful Matryoshka everywhere, on tables being sold by fur-clad Eastern European men, among other soviet souvenirs. Landen attempted to barter for this precious lady, offering multiples of two when the merchants wanted multiples of ten. After all, she is hand-made. So, after hours spent scouring these rickety tables for the most beautiful of them all, and attempting to do business with the least sketchy of the men, we found her, and paid a fair price for her.

Currently our dear Matryoshka, half Ukriania, half Russia, half Landen, half Vanessa, sits on our mantle with her baby ducks following closely behind.

Quite some time ago I decided I had had enough of our rust brick fire-less fireplace and painted it a wholesome grey.

Before:




... and after, the once freshly painted throne of our dear doll: