Alliums, a form of ornamental onion. Photo taken at the Dorothy Clive garden today. I really enjoyed seeing such a lovely garden. I wish I could reproduce it at home. Gardening is such a, wonderful skill. I wish I had the energy to do it
Alliums
Category: Memories
Dorothy Clive garden
Wondrous garden in the countryside on the borders of Staffordshire, Cheshire and Shropshire. In Willowbridge I think? Every spring my hubby and I would go to see the rhododendrons in flower in the Quarry garden, sometimes they were fully in bloom, other years the blooms hadn’t opened or were going over. Today they were perfect. I just wish my hubby was here still to see them. I’d been to the hospital for more tests so this was a treat for my sister who had come with me. She held onto me on the steeper slopes. Today it was very blustery and overcast with a cold wind but at least it wasn’t snowing like it had been in some previous years.
Longest days
I’ve just spent two days working with BArts and Growthpoint. They were putting on an opera show about Molly Leigh.
There were three scenes today, a church where a vicar was criticising a local woman called Molly Leigh and saying she was a witch, turning milk sour and having a blackbird as a familiar. A pub scene where there were customers and staff gossiping and talking about Molly saying good and bad things, like she borrowed money and didn’t pay it back, but then gave a family with a sick child several pints of milk so the child recovered. Then the final scene where a community choir came together to sing from her perspective bringing out the various aspects of her life. Each choir member was playing part of Molly as a whole.
The photo is of the cottage interior with a few of my bits of painting included. I have to say it was hard work, tiring, very intense and yet life affirming. I did more in two days than I’ve been able to for a few years and now I’m absolutely shattered.
I wish I was
By the sea
Sand soft beneath my feet,
Tide rising, toes tickled by waves.
Starfish paddle with their little feet
Whelks and cockles burrow
Warm splash of water
Buckets and spades
Time to build a sandcastle for me and you.
Japanese food.
What a treat! Starter with wasabi mayonnaise at Miso Japanese restaurant in Stoke, Stoke on Trent.
Then I had a bento box, your choice of main dish plus vegetable goyoza, sticky rice with sesame seeds, salad, cucumber sushi rolls and thinly sliced pickled ginger. There are vegan, vegetarian and meat or fish options.
Then we had sake and also plum wine. I’m not used to drinking much anymore but a relative was over visiting me so we decided to go mad.
I don’t go out very often anymore, but I remember years ago we used to visit the restaurant regularly. I’m glad I went, it’s really friendly and the food is always good.
Molly painting
Calling this finished, I could keep fighting her but I’m struggling. The face is loosley based on a portrait of a French peasant woman by Theodore Gericault. Now I can have a rest, that was hard work.
Finished?
I might do some more to this tomorrow but a full day on it has knackered me. The sky is a bit wrong and I could darken some of it to add shadows. I think the roof is too light too so I might add blues and browns.
It’s for a project about Molly Leigh but I might also try and enter it for an exhibition. I want to make it the best possible representation.
Progress
This is hard work, I don’t shake as much when I’m concentrating but the tremors of Parkinsons make small details difficult. I try and hold my breath and clamp my arm against my body. In fact I’m having to redo sections because I’m not happy with the results, but I will persevere, memory of Molly, work in progress. Acrylic on canvas. Copy of a mural I did at the Leopard Hotel in Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent. Difficult to reproduce the same feeling.
Trying
Trying to recreate my Molly Leigh mural as a painting. Work in progress. Acrylic on canvas. It’s a lot smaller, about 12 by 18 inches? There’s a lot of detail to try and get and I’m adding a painting of a Jay. The bird was apparently the pet (or familiar) of Molly who is called the Burslem witch.
In memory
I saw a prompt on Esther Chilton’s page “dreams” and decided to write a poem about loss to respond to it. Here it is.
In my dreams you are still here
I grasp your hand to pull you near
To say “goodnight” to you my sweet,
As my heart trips and skips a beat,
To have you here, to hear you speak,
That is the dream I really seek.
I know that you have gone away,
Will never see another day.
I’m in a dream now, holding on
To memories of you though you’ve gone.
