Mother’s Day. Neither mother, nor with a mother to visit, I head instead for what’s newborn in the garden. The tulips are in bud. But what catches my eye first is a magnificent caterpillar. I should mind its nibblings – but look at it, an elaborately-plaited braid of a thing… so … Read More
It’s chilly, back to Winter after last week’s glimpse of Spring. So I pick a stem of narcissus and a fallen-over crocus for a closer look indoors. I’ve picked the crocus for its saffron – but as soon as it’s in water, it flings out its petals, demanding my attention for … Read More
Loo rolls. Not the most glamorous things to write about in this week of hearts and flowers. But I save them for sowing sweet peas. Their delicate roots don’t like being moved so these, I can plant whole. Cardboard and compost aren’t the most glamorous things to draw either – I … Read More
It’s hot lemon and ginger season, colds everywhere in my city. The garden seems to be in sympathy, the iris corms knobbly in the rich, dark earth, sprouting tough, bright leaves, yellow to green to blue-grey. The snowdrops are glowing like exquisite little lamps. As I draw, I notice spikes … Read More
On a frozen day, I nip into the garden looking for flotsam and jetsam – stuff on the soil, leftovers, things blown in on the wind. Snails have left their shells, a chance to marvel at them. Each unique, all whirl and mark and ridge, drawing them I notice that they … Read More
In late afternoon, I spot the first shocking pink cyclamen flowers and draw them quickly, in the last of the day’s light. Leave them overnight and they’ll have been snacked-on by a passing creature. I grab a highlighter. Watercolour alone isn’t up to the brightness of these flowers and even … Read More
On Christmas Eve, I head out into the garden to see if I can find some merriment and there is is: bulbs peeking out, scraps of soil cast aside like Christmas wrapping. The snowdrop bulbs were a present, planted all over the garden for good cheer at the turn of … Read More
The holly and the ivy… This time of year, I draw a lot of holly. But wandering out into the garden on a day so grey that it’s barely got light, it’s the ivy that’s singing out. I think of the ivy as one thing, sprawling over the back of … Read More
On late Autumn days of mud and gaps, the garden seems spent. But on a warmer-than-it-looks Saturday, nature coaxes me to the far end, where berries drop and ivy sprawls. There, purple-black and glossy among lime green leaves, is one jasmine berry. Eyes tuned, I look up, at the holly … Read More
