Sunshine on the garden and the Love Cats.

Early morning sitting in the garden with cats and only the air through the wings of a high flying raven to disturb my peace as I travel through the power of words from Pembrokeshire to Mexico. So peaceful even the flight of butterflies make a small whisper of sound.

John came back and loaded the car with hares and hounds and a fox and a heron and cheetahs and cherries, then headed off to Amanda's, though however he will squeeze anything else into the car I will never know.

The rest of my day has been sunshine and painting punctuated by reading in the garden, cats and thinking. Peaceful, perfect, undisturbed.

Small pink roses blossom in a pot and in my newfound enthusiasm for growing food I think I will turn the small sheltered square of back garden into more space for planting. I need a garden diary, so that I know what to plant and when and I think with my moon love I will go for the madness of biodynamics and plant according to the phases of the moon.

Watching the spinach re-grow does not make it grow and faster, so next year I must plant more. I have a beautiful recipe for spinach bhaji, with onion and spring onion and garlic and chilli and a little salt and black pepper. So good, just perfect. And next year two courgette plants should give us as much as we need. More leeks, more onions, more beetroot and maybe I can persaude the slugs to let me have the carrots by growing carrots in pots.

And in the meantime something John Foley said has made me revisit the Two Cheetahs Two Cherries. But this one will be called The Love Cats.

The cheetah and cherry paintings seem to develope along quite conversational lines.

Light through leaves, heather on the hill.

My first year of growing vegetables and I love to look at the way evening light falls through the leaves. My leeks have suffered from my laziness with watering. Next year I will have two more beds, which will have organic matter dug well in to beautiful top soil. I will grow onions and beans, leeks and  lambs lettice, beetroot and carrots, spinach and rocket and swiss chard and maybe even artichokes. And I will water them more and chant incantations by the light of the full moon to keep off the slugs and I will search for toads and put down things that snakes can hide under, to do battle with slugs. 

For now I am just so entranced by courgettes.

And I wonder if next year I might have bees also.

Tiger in a tea cup, passion in the garden.

Music from clay.

I walked across the fields to Adam's studio. He had phoned earlier to say that he was opening the kiln. Swallows flew low over the grass. Further up the field a great red bull cropped grass. I walked quietly and quickly and the grass must have been sweet. He did not seem to notice.

At Adam's studio I was unprepared for the discovery that as the pots cool, once the kiln is open, the glazes sing like a quiet musical box. Beautiful.

 

Most of these pots will be packed up to travel to Art in Action. Two large ones still wait, drying slowly before firing and glazing. And in my garden, the white pot that I saw a few walks back. Like a fallen moon.

In The British Museum there are other Moon Jars.

Short list, long list and the hands of time.

So far today I have been

1. Woken by dragons scratching at the door at 5.30 in the morning, but when I stumbled bleary from bed there were only cats there. The dragons had flown.

2. Updated The Ice Bear page on my website so that it actualy says a little about the book.

And I have to

1. Walk dogs

The air around meadowseet should not be wantonly wasted. Time should be taken to savour its beauty. Richer than a fine wine, it is not free, but costs only the time taken to find it.

2. Stretch paper onto the board that got away

3. Make that list for Art in Action and make sure that they have a file for printing a poster

4. do more roughs for nursery rhymes

5. Paint. Hopefully today we will maintain a supply of electricity, for while the lack of spark can lead to a quiet day on the internet the lack of light can lead to no painting being done. And I need to paint.

6. Invite myself to a friend's house for supper. Somewhere where there is a grandfather clock would be good.

7. Go talk to the neighbours' horses ( though this can be done whilst walking dogs and thinking about roughs, thus killing a few birds with the same stone, a metaphor the cats would approve of though I find it quite ugly).

8. Take some really good shots of the garden in order to drive John Foley from The Imagine Gallery wild with envy!

9. Carry on helping the inland revenue find the cheque for £ 4 800 that they have so very carelessly let slip down the back of a sofa. I wonder if they have tried looking in an MP's second home yet? Maybe it went there.

Walking to work.

First review of The Ice Bear, in the back to school ed. of The Bookseller.

 The Ice Bear Jackie Morris 9781845079680-  ‘This wonderful book by supremely talented artist Jackie Morris is packed with sumptuous illustrations that children will pour over. It is a beautifully written story of a child lost and found, and will be a must of every teacher, as it demonstrates the importance of humans living in harmony with creatures of the wild.’

Always nervous when a new book comes out, though this one isn't published until September. And I quite like the idea of children pouring over one of my books.

Such a beautiful day that a short walk to check on the neighbour's horses became a long walk in sunshine to exercise the dogs in the early morning cool. A footpath runs through my garden and this is the best place to start.

 

Past the raised beds where the slugs have been enjoying my bright beetrrot seedlings. Time to get slug pellets or a shotgun I think. Past the moonjar with shadow roses decorating its pale surface, across the fields to Adam's studio where a rather fine huge white moonjar seems to be sitting on the reject table! Next week we will both be at Art in Action.

Then across the fields to the sea with ears filled with skylark song and butterflies dancing round my feet. The dogs took off running wild, chasing foxes. Across stepping stones and cows had made a pool by the spring. Meadowsweet is blossoming. 

I do love being clothed in the early morning fresh as new silk air. Ravens where delighting in the wind beneath black wings and I realised I missed the raven from The Ice Bear.

Through my mind ran the refrain:

Here am I 

Little jumping Joan.

When nobody's with me

I'm all alone.

Back home, time to work.

1. Make a list.

2. Stretch paper onto every available drawing board.

3. Rough for nursery rhyme cover.

4. Order books for Art in Action.

5. Rough for Jumping Joan and the other blank spaces.

6. Pick up paintings from John, and drawings of hares in white gold frames.

7. Make a list of things to take to Art in Action.

8. Paint.

9. Leave a little space in the day for unexpected happenings.

10. Read.

11. Walk dogs again in the late twilight and watch for owl and fox and badger and bat.

( A power cut put paid to any painting I might have done. The power was off for most of the day, and I struggled to gather any thoughts and put them onto paper as time slipped elusive through my fingers no matter how hard I cupped my hands to catch it.)

I live in a cliche cottage

The morning garden is all roses and bee song, birds and crow call. The wind that confettied the grass with rose petals has dropped. Fledglings flit dangerous through the green and I hope that the cats will not find them. This time of year the house becomes a cottage version of Sleeping Beauty's castle, briared with sharp thorned flowers.