magnolia

As parts of the UK experience the first chill and snow of winter I marvel at magnolia buds revealed by stormy winds. Until very recently my small magnolia tree (a 50th gift from a friend) was in leaf and the hopeful buds grew concealed. It was a thrill to notice them and this week one leaf remained - I considered plucking it as keepsake but resisted, leaving it do its own thing. Today the young tree is bare of leaf and full of bud and I love how at winters threshold the fizz and pop of spring is patiently biding its time. Next years promise held tight throughout winter, wonderfully visible and breathtaking.

This observation will turn me into a bud and shoot spotter; the gorgeous fur of magnolia bud and heart swelling green of daffodil leaf tip. Nature reminding all that the only constant is change and nothing stands still. 

What a difficult two years we have had, collective trauma, ongoing pandemic, variants and alarming news. What hope in the bud, the shoot? Many may feel frustrated and thwarted, plans scattered, the veneer of control fallen like autumn leaves. Each time I notice a bud I'll remember to take a deep breath, to value signs of life and celebrate keeping on keeping on. The future is locked up tight, safe, renewal on the horizon. For now though, I'll willingly lean into winters nudge towards introspection and acknowledge the necessary endurance of these times. 

visit to epping forest

While in London this week I met a friend for a walk in Epping Forest. We walked from Chingford Plains to High Beach and it was thrilling to experience an unfamiliar aspect of the forest and notice many instances of sympathetic management and habitat creation. Since I left the area in 2018 greater numbers of English Long Horn cattle have been released and we saw small herds grazing and relaxing in the grass. This sight is part of a thousand year history of people having commoner rights to graze cattle in Epping Forest, a working landscape. 

The forest where I grew up has a different feel: huge pollarded beech tress, deep leaf litter and wide tracks. This part felt more intimate and varied with winding, slow streams, boggy areas and clearings. It's been years since I walked in Epping Forest and my eyes felt fresh with the wonder of it, realising anew that this is a very particular place and surprisingly, that I'd forgotten something of its power and beauty. I would love to visit again with more time for exploration. 

haddon hall chapel

I could happily visit Haddon Hall every week! 

Within the grounds of Haddon Hall I always head to the St Nicholas Chapel first, tracing a 'map' of my first visit many years ago. I'm fascinated by the foliage and flower dry fresco paintings and love to gaze up, noticing how each large motif skilfully fits into the others surrounding it to create a continuous pattern that climbs the walls. I marvel at the skill involved in painting consistently to this scale over a large surface. Wondering at the daunting first brushstroke, the mixing of pigments, at the scaffold required to work at hight, imagining arm ache and the physicality of this labour. How marvellous to become absorbed in marks made in the 1400's. How I'd love to peek into the process, see the start of a days work, observe the everyday of that era.

And then, within feet, I travel to 1894. The death of a 9 year old child, the eldest son. Eyes drawn to the tender depiction of feet and hands and incredible carved drapery.

'For ever wilt thou grieve and he be fair.'

Detail of chapel fresco

Three skeletons of a Medieval morality tale

whoops

Whoops - I intended to share a picture of my sunflower in flower last month - see this instagram post for a full bloom shot! 

Seeds are forming, and a teeny new flower head is sprouting - such riches.

When ripe, I'll take a few seeds for next year and leave the rest to the birdies.

Thank you sunflower 💚

bees on echinops

 Such a treat to watch bees buzz around the tall globe thistle 🙂

Buff-tailed bumblebee

Honeybee

White-tailed bumblebee

Red-tailed bumblebee with mites on it's back hitching a lift

dinosaur pals

These delightful post-it note drawings sat by the side of the path between railway and houses in Belper today. Wisely, they'd chosen a shady spot on this scorching day. Crouching to photograph them I wondered at the event of their creation - a guessing game? something to delight a child? to while away a bus journey, illustrate a conversation? Literally 'throw away' drawings on post-it notes, momentary, speedy while also showing a confidence with line and proportion. I'm a fan of the artist. 

The addition of a googly-eye gives an air of intent to the stegosaurus - it's going places. The brachiosaurus has appears wistful, looking back at where it's been. 

They make a balanced team.

 

small things are big things

A few months ago I left a packet of sunflower seeds in the stairway of Haarlem Artspace (where I have a studio) inviting others to pick a seed and grow a sunflower. I staged it as a competition of sorts - envisaging studio holders planting our sunflowers in the flowerbed by the studio building and watching as each grew into itself with its own special attribute.

At the moment mine stands alone, though I'm hopeful my sunflower will have company.

It grew on my studio windowsill for a month or so and 7 days ago I planted it out. I've been grateful for the rain that has fallen this week and today went to check on the beautiful and hopeful flower-bud that is forming. I'll have bated breath until it flowers.

Tomorrow I am providing homemade vegan victorian sponge and ginger nut biscuits to celebrate the sunflower and my intention of joining studio holders in a communal flowery endeavour. It's not quite taken off this time, there is always next year...