THESE TINY SAXIFRAGES are my small windowbox garden, planted not long ago, and reaching towards the light that tips on these bright mornings over the top of that oldest thatch onto my paintings as they are born. Through their stems I see the village go by from my desk. Children walking to school, unfathomably huge lorries of logs, texting horseriders, and ladies on bikes... This view was included this week on Terri Windling's window view blog feature, where you can see views through windows of folks all over. Looking from inside out.
I write from the edge of London now, half way to Suffolk where I'll be selling my wares at this weekend's Weird and Wonderful Wood fair. Come along if you are passing by Stowmarket, I'll be in the barn! The journey has been epic so far: relearning my rusty driving skills in a little rented van, and on the way finding myself stranded (and threatened with police!) in a petrol station without enough pennies to pay for £5.68's worth of fuel! I was rescued by a petrol-station-angel in the form of a lady eating a sandwich who crossed my palm with 5 pound coins as she overheard my panicked phone call to the bank! (I then had to go back sheepishly and ask her for 68 more pence!) We exchanged addresses for the return of the loan and I blessed her in my thoughts all the way!
... and stopped for a cup of Verge Tea, teabagless as I was:
Life is a whirlwind of paint and colour this May! I have so much work to complete, and I am fighting not to get buried by it all! But I look forward to June, when days will be clear to walk up hills and look over the edge into the unfolding year... And all the while I delight in every little plant that blinks from the verges: goosegrass, dandelion, nettle, stitchwort.
I leave you in haste with my Summer Crow, painted for Melanie in watercolour as the last in my commissioned series of four crow-seasons. He too looks out across summer fields grasping a sunflower in his claws...