Heathland in August is heavenly.
Poetry fails me so photos will have to suffice.
It’s no secret that I am captivated by butterflies and fritillaries are my favourites. A friend very excitedly told me that she’d had a lovely hour with some recently and I thought I would celebrate our mutual joy by painting her something.
Good colour practice for me and I’m pretty pleased with the result.
My favourite game of hide and seek.
(baby common lizard)
I keep trying to create an orca pod portrait that I love enough to be the focal point of the living room. This is the closest I’ve come but it’s not quite there yet. I love the spray though and the way it merges with the stars.
I made the mistake of reading an article
on congestion getting worse by road and rail and air.
The article did not go so far as to say too many people
but that’s the point, isn’t it?
The article was quick to disappear along with my breath,
lungs tighter and tighter on my own, not so crowded, train.
Then I saw a suited man, all ironed pin stripes and neat hair.
As he moved through the carriage, a flash of pink
caught my eye, bright socks in the gloom of a grey morning.
I smiled and the panic retreated just enough.
All is not as certain as some would have you believe.
This is the smallest baby common lizard I have ever seen. It was only about 5cm from nose to tail.
Best part of the day.
In between the rain showers of the past week, there has been plenty of time to explore various green spaces and nature reserves. I have been mostly hunting for butterflies, as the time for enjoying them grows ever shorter, but there have been plenty of other delights from the tinkling chatter of goldfinches to an incredible close encounter with a swallow and her young.
These are my best bird photos from the past week. Time to get back to enjoying things closer to home (and watching the rain).
On a gloomy grey day, after a succession of gloomy grey days, the sun shining is like a miracle. And not just for us.
As often happens when I haven’t drawn for a while, my treacherous brain starts to convince me that I can’t, maybe I never could and certainly will never do so again. All lies designed to minimise the pain of disappointment if I take pen to paper and I fail.
This time, before the doubting could paralyse me completely, I reached out to my loving friends and asked them to push me back to the place of quiet courage from which all creativity is born.
Over the next few nights I was able to draw these.
This young robin, just getting its red breast feathers, was so curious as I counted butterflies today for the Big Butterfly Count (anyone in the UK, get involved!). It sat looking at me the whole time, super curious, on a branch that I could have reached up to touch.
Who knows what the robin took away from the experience but I have been reliving the encounter all day.
(also, I need to find time to draw again but getting out while the sun is shining has seemed so much more important)