In 1999, I took part in the White Lady Festival in Haapsalu with an outdoor smithy. There was a crowd around the hearth, but a woman caught my eye who had been watching me work for quite a while. Then, the woman approached me and said in a hushed voice: "This is my grave!" I did not know what to think and, after a moment of silence, asked her to explain. She pointed to an iron flower on the ground and responded: "I have always known that there will be grass growing on my grave, but the calla blossom was missing." The calla blossom had to wait for the right owner quite a few years and I have never forged more of those, as the story of the lady of Haapsalu was too intriguing for me.