29.8.13

Rockpool sketching

 

Sometimes it's good just to forget about artwork being *good* and to simply enjoy the process of observing and sketching. Sitting by the rockpools of Arran, Scotland, scribbling away, my burdens lightened for a few brief hours.


31.7.13

Foxes, geese and tiny houses


 Order just off to America, to the lovely Empty Nest Emporium in New Virginia - a trio of slinky foxes.





A trio of flower geese - 







 And a street of tiny houses -





I hope the foxes are making friends with the geese...


25.7.13

Little green spider



 The most delightful little green spider, trying to escape my camera lens.


Crawling about on the old iron table at Cinderhill Farm.


Later found to be a Green Orb Weaver spider.


Only a quarter of an inch long, but rather fearsome when viewed up close. Harmless though.

21.7.13

Good neighbours


 

Without a lawnmower and with being so occupied over the last several months, the lawn had grown knee high. I am blessed with the best neighbours ever. They have looked after me since Andy died and are always on hand to help. They bravely offered to mow my hay meadow.



Brian did the big task of strimming. I raked the cuttings and Jean collected them. 'It's what neighbours are for' she said. 

 

 Brian  finished off the edges the old way, with a sharp bill hook.


 Then we stopped for much needed drinks.

 

 Ginger beer and shandy with ice.


A few days later, after hearing that I wanted an old-style push along mower, Brian produced this for me -




It's been in bits for eight years, having been at the cottage next door for about fifty years, in Jean's family. Brian got to work and put it together for me one night. Now I can cut my own lawn - without the expense and bother of petrol or electric. Isn't it beautiful? I love it. And I love my neighbours.

16.7.13

Queen's Head workshop


Last week I held an all day workshop in Eynsham, one of our old home villages, at the Queen's Head pub. My favourite pub ever, but today we were not here for beer, but to make little houses. There was plenty of chat as the work began, fueled by home made shortbread.



Breaking at one for lunch, Jackie the landlady had laid on little homebaked  tartlets and salad, as the day was so hot.



 
Lovely Alice brought us cones of fresh mango sorbet.

 

And then back to work for a while...


...until afternoon tea, which naturally was scones with jam and cream. Or fruit, if you preferred.



It may sound as if we spent the entire day scoffing, but by the end of a five hour class, every one had made a super house and someone had even made a Christmas pudding. I'm planning a similar workshop at the Queen's Head in September, so if you are interested in pre-booking a place, drop me an email and I'll contact you when the date if confirmed,

10.7.13

Birthday at Cinderhill farm


I'm not big on birthdays and this one came at a particularly bad time. However, the good folks at Cinderhill Farm were determined to make it special for me and somehow I found several cards and a few packages waiting for me at the breakfast table, from various friends who had discovered my hiding place.



Even a pretty parcel from America, from dear Janet and her colleague at 'The Empty Nest' - birthday bunting and the pleasure of reading about her shop in a real, live magazine. Proud friend moment.  



A lovely framed print of Lorna Marrison's, from the artist herself,  of a village shop I know well, back in my old home.

 

A gorgeous book of David Gentleman's art from some old friends.


Not to mention the book of bird poetry by the Candlestick Press, kindly sent to me by Valerie Greeley which I'd brought with me to read.


Later that day a couple of friends turned up and the woodburner lit, as it was a typical British summer's afternoon.




 Debs had made my favourite coffee and walnut cake.


Serious tea and cake eating commenced as the rain set in outside.


After an unexpectedly pleasant day, thanks to the kindness of so many friends, I was ready to copy the new Cinderhill piglets. I did a lot of sleeping at the farm. 



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