Rabbits’ ears and roses

Rabbits' ears. That's what we called these soft, furry leaves when I was a kid. I was going to write 'so visiting the plant sale at Copped Hall in Epping, I couldn't resist buying some' – but I can never resist a plant sale. I sketch them before planting them in the garden, their grey-blue-green leaves set off nicely by the flat leaf parsley. Next time I draw them I might sponge the colour on but for now, I add the fur with a white fineliner.

There are zingy pink roses in the tangle of jasmine at the back of the garden. Glowing, even in flat light, today there's dappled sunlight adding sharp lime green. I take care not to overdraw, stopping before I lose the life in the colour.

Today's the day I plant the snowdrop bulbs I was given as a present. Often, my Autumn bulb-planting is a speedy job between other things but through sketching these first, I have a proper look at them. Each is different in size and shape; some striped, some papery white, some golden.

Then there's the tomato. They've ripened one by one. One tomato being remarkable enough to draw, I take time to look at its form and notice that far from being round, it feels folded, soft creases radiating out from the former flower. I always love the depth in a tomato's colour and there are four, if not five, colours here, with an undercoat of yellow and mauve for shadow.

Somehow, the variety in this gently-random garden day feels fitting. I flit from plant to plant, human doing as the wildlife does.

Ballpen, watercolour and fineliner on handed-down watercolour paper and a postcard.

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