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Tiny paintings

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This is a couple of years old and about two inches by one inch. I’m thinking of doing a few more of these for a craft fair, and to cheer myself up! I have a small commission to do and I can’t drag myself out of my current low mood. In any case I’m OK really, just need to get myself sorted out. Painting helps me feel better, calmer, or excited and happy.

Paint ain’t a bad thing

gets your mind working.

Paint is a pleasure

and a little bit frightening.

Creating your ideas,

putting them down

on paper and canvas.

Drawing out my mind

with colour and texture.

Life can suck,

but paint can pull you back,

giving a solution and reason to be.

 

Flooding

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This is a local lake, but I’m using it to illustrate what has been happening this weekend as storm Dennis rages over the UK. Flooding in South Wales, Worcestershire, Yorkshire, Scotland and many other of the shires (counties). Cities, towns and countryside have all been affected. The water that fell from storm Ciara last weekend has saturated the ground and made it difficult for the water to drain. The weather has battered the mainland of Europe too.

Watching it all happen on the TV, I know its a rather small problem compared with what’s been happening in Australia with its wild fires. In East Africa where billions of locusts are affecting many countries. In South America where people are burning rain forests, in so many places on the earth where seven billion of us are causing untold damage?

The questions come, but are not always answered. I don’t know what to think. But I might have to stop writing about it. I’m depressing myself and probably everyone else….

Why kill wild animals?

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One of the worst things I see on social media like Facebook is photos of proud people posing with dead animals they have shot. I always feel sick when I see them. Their big grins as they stick their boot on the fallen prey or hold up their trophy. I’ve seen dead lions, tigers, Elephants, giraffes, zebras…. But other animals too

Mainly in Africa, but animals hunted in other arts of the world including America. What gets me is that this is in addition to poachers that kill for tusks and hides and horns. These people, men and women seem to need to prove how macho they are, how clever and Great. When in fact they are just proving themselves to be cruel and stupid, and the thing is the more they kill, the less animals there are left in the wild. So I share the pictures, show their evil faces to the world. But if these rich, privileged people would stop to think, take cameras instead of guns. Well we wouldn’t be in this mess would we?

Where have you been?

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Through the door into the dark shadows, light shining through dusty windows, shafts of sunlight with dust motes dancing through the beams. We were exploring, looking at the racks of plaster molds, stacked high on racks, above head height. Hundreds of them, all shapes and sizes. For slip casting pottery.

In the back of the store room something stirred. A figure unfolding, grey with dust. Semi transparent, like a ghost? We saw it as it lurched to its feet and grasped at the racks of saggars. It spoke. ‘you don’t belong here’ it shouted ‘get out’, and we did! We turned tail and ran, through the door, through the yard and away. We won’t be going back there again!

It must be spring soon?

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Buds are bursting on the bushes, leaves are slowly unfurling. Each tiny leaflet a herald of coming spring. A few crocuses and snowdrops are out. Rode Halls snowdrop walk, which is an annual event round here, is advertised on Facebook. Life moves on. The water from the storms is soaking the ground, and where there are trees and gardens the water is sucked up to swell the buds. Where there is concrete and bricks it washes down and floods out from the rivers.

The weather is on a knife edge, will it get to hot again this summer? Will we have floods or drought? Will warmth spread through the land gently or will we have fires on heaths and moors and in woods and forests. Our climate is in balance no more. It is up to us to do something to help it fall back into that balance of nature that is gentlest for the world. If we try hard I hope we can.?

Play your beautiful tune.

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Notes bright and fast,

now slow and low,

up and down and round.

Vibrating strings,

music arching about.

Liquid notes,

that hold the mind

In thrall of sorrow or beauty.

Such wonderful feelings

stirred by movement,

bow drawn over strings.

Takes mind in hand

a merry dance

all through the land,

We jump and prance,

gives joy to all around!

 

 

 

Storm “Dennis”

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Storm Dennis has been tipped as possibly more damaging than storm Ciara last weekend. We have had some strong gusts of wind, bending the Eucalyptus sapling we have growing in the garden, it’s leaves acting like sails, catching the wind, and bending it almost in half. The Leylandii in the neighbours garden has been whipping about and it’s branches seperating as the winds buffet it. Sometimes great gusts of air force themselves between the tree and the privet hedge at the bottom of our garden.

We are waiting for the heavy rain that is forecast, an Amber and Yellow warning has been set for the whole country. Even planes have been cancelled fir the passengers safety.

Britain is not a large island (or islands) but its shocking to think that storms can encompass the whole of it. Whether the heating of the atmosphere could be causing it? I don’t know, but you do have to wonder?…

Designing tiles

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I decided to make a drawing of a tree shape then played with it in various apps to change its colour and shape.

I love old fashioned Art Nouveau and Rennie Mackintosh designs from the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth century. Also the Arts and Crafts movement. We have become so interested in glossy and sleek, modern, monochrome that we don’t seem to recognise that patterns can be exciting and interesting. You can do anything you want really.

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Be my Valentine?

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I was talking to a friend earlier about her valentine experiences and  remembered an incident from about thirty years ago…

It was a cold, clear Valentines day morning. I’d got up to go to work, and as I stepped outside I found a red rose on my doorstep. It wasn’t wrapped in cellophane or paper. It was a long stemmed rose. Deep scarlet. Beautiful, slightly starting to wilt. I looked up and down the street, no one around. We were in a terraced house, so the door opened down a step straight onto the pavement. Anyone could have left it there.

I went inside and asked my then boyfriend, later to be hubby, if he had put it on the step. But he said no. I quizzed him, but no it was not him. To be honest it wasn’t his style, he rarely knows when it’s valentines day and usually only gets me a card if I get him one. He was as surprised as I was but said I should take it as a compliment!

So I had this beautiful rose. I cut the stem at an angle and it in a pint glass while I went out to do my shift at work.

But I couldn’t concentrate. All morning I thought about who could have left it? It might have been a neighbour. It might have been a friend, but I had no idea that anyone had romantic thoughts about me. My inner Miss Marple told me that it couldn’t have been there long and that it must have been bought from the nearby florists as no roses were in flower at that time of year. There are roses growing on the factory opposite our house, but they were bare stems.

Who? That was my thought. Whoever it was must have known I was in a long term relationship? Why? Did they think I was looking for someone new? The answer to that was no….

Eventually I decided that the rose must have been for someone else. Perhaps the anonymous person had mistaken my doorstep for someone else’s?

I will never know. It never happened again. The next year I felt disappointed. Since then I have rarely remembered it. Only today’s chat reawakened the memory for me.

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