It had been a long time since I last went to the home of my childhood. It was still there, wrapped in the greenest nature. After a long day of hard work digging ground and breaking stones, I used a relaxed sunday to sit under the hazel tree and paint the garden's entrance. I used pigment ink for the lines and ocre watercolor for the values.

My parents often have some strange things to show, and sometimes of those items that have the touching, somehow magic effect of the old-fashioned objects.
Really our electronic technophile world didn't produce such treasure as this archaic-looking device. Guess what, this thing peals apples, removes their core and cuts them into slices, in nothing more than a few turns of crank.
(then it became the model of my second little watercolor of the day)