In spite of a bad back at present – I try not to bend too much whilst standing at the easel – I have thoroughly enjoyed painting some new paintings for my Australian Flower series. Each of the two paintings of lantanas are acrylics on canvas 18cms x 24cms x 4cms (deep sides so do not require framing), and the smaller pair depicting fluffy pink flowers also are painted in acrylic on deep-sided canvasses 15cms x 15cms x 4cms.
Now back to the easel!
Sign outside a garden nursery:
Spring is coming!
I’m so excited I could wet my plants!
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One evening a father went to the parent/ teacher meeting at his son’s school.
“So how is my son doing in class?” the man asked his son’s teacher.
“Oh he’s doing really well and he has fitted in fantastically with all the other children; he is a delight to have in the class!” enthused the young teacher.
“That’s great news,” said the proud and happy father.
“But, as far as I can tell… he can’t read or write yet,” the teacher added.
(Thank you, Roly, for making us smile this Sunday morning.)
I was leaving my mum’s place, having just cut her hair, when I was struck by the words written on a piece of slate hanging from a shrub in her garden:
Think deeply, Laugh loudly, Be kind, And give freely
It made me think of my mother, how kind and thoughtful is, and how those words so aptly apply to the way she lives her life. Then I felt a pang of guilt over something that occurred last week when I was hurrying home one evening; an agitated woman of about forty stopped me and asked for eighty pence.
“Sorry, I haven’t got my purse on me,” I answered, believing it to be true at the time (and grateful to able to answer thus); but, in the time it takes to make two steps, I remembered that my purse was in my knapsack after all and I experienced the first tug of guilt.
“She probably wants it for drink or drugs,” I assuaged myself and carried on walking and thinking.
It had seemed to me that eighty pence was a carefully considered amount to ask for, obviously deemed to appear not too much – less than a pound, which sounds a pittance – and yet, almost a pound, which still has some value. The woman had turned away sharply at my response – any hint of good manners had gone and her eyes darted around for the next person to badger; I was nothing to her but a soft touch. Never-the-less, I regretted not going back with my purse.
Walking home from my mother’s house my thoughts moved on to the audio book “Down and Out in Paris and London” by George Orwell, to which I had been listening yesterday afternoon whilst I painted morning glory (the blue convolvulus that grows wild and profusely in my homeland of Australia). I cried and laughed (there is always wry humour to be found in dire circumstances) through the account of Orwell’s own experience of poverty.
Still deep in thought about toerags (the rags that hobos put between their toes to prevent them from rotting, apparently – didn’t know that until yesterday!) I reached the main road which runs past our terrace and which still has traffic lights holding up the traffic because of the new cycle-path being constructed. The oncoming cars were at a standstill while the left-hand lane was moving. Suddenly my reverie was rudely interrupted by a loud wolf whistle. Startled, I nearly jumped out of my skin and looked across the road – one of my handsome old admirers was driving by with his window down. I laughed, as did the truck driver stuck behind the red light, and the old couple in the car behind him. Just as I reached our gate another smiling face behind a steering wheel blew me kisses – Ashley Thorn (as Scarlet O’hara would have said in her Southern drawl, “Oh Ashley, Ashley, I love you!”) – one of the nicest men you could meet. With much merriment I returned his kisses with exaggerated gestures (I do love him… in the right way!) and the people in the two cars behind him laughed.
As I walked in through my studio entrance my mind went back to the lady who had asked for eighty pence and it dawned on me what to answer if anybody ever asks again for such a paltry amount…
“Is eighty pence enough?”
Just to think that it was only three weeks ago when I was walking my mountain bike up a steep hill on my way back to Charis’s house (where I was house-sitting in Brisbane) and I came across these pretty lantanas! I remember it being so hot and I had to stop every so often to have a drink of water and regain my energy for the climb, ever upwards. You don’t notice how steep hills are until you have to walk them – do you? But if I hadn’t had to stop I wouldn’t have taken photographs of the lantanas at the roadside… And now that they are painted my sister Mary, too, will enjoy one of the memories of our childhood in the bush.
I may be sick (and how!) but I can’t bear to be idle all day, so I worked on a small painting for my lovely sister Mary, or Mayflower, as we call her. It’s another painting of lantanas, the weed-like flowers that grow in profusion in the bush or any rough land in our homeland of Australia. When we were kids we all used grab the heads of the lantanas in order to pull off the hundreds of tiny individual flowers and throw them, confetti-like, into the air over any unsuspecting boy and girl walking together.
“You’re getting married, you’re getting married” we would taunt.
It was all very embarrassing for the “couple” and there was every chance that you’d get chased and have the same thing done to you.
So I hope that Mary will like this little reminder of our childhood – she doesn’t yet know that I’ve painted it (and it didn’t take long). The other painting, the Coca-Cola girl, is a commission for Rosie (and she has had to wait ages!).
The last few days of my visit back in my homeland of Australia have been busy. There were paintings to paint and people to see, and now there is time left only to do the final packing, have a bite of breakfast and say my goodbyes to loved ones. Ah, so sad to leave… but how thrilling to be going home to see to Chris, Jim, Bobbie, Susannah, Mary, Mum, Rob, all my beloved nieces and nephews, and my wonderful friends. Besides, I’ll be back… in November! See you in England in a couple of days!
“That lady looks jolly attractive in her hat and Australian flag draped around her,” I thought to myself.
I rather wished that I had thought of something special to wear, it being Australia Day, but I hadn’t planned on going out today at all – not until I had a phone call from our friend Roland last evening. And even then I had no idea that we would be going to the West End and South Bank, which is where we were when I saw the cute elderly lady in her patriotic outfit on the seat. As I drew nearer to the lady I noticed something else unusual about her – she had the same white crocheted shoulder bag as I have (and which I had with me at the time).
“I like your bag ,” I said, making her look up. “It’s exactly the same as mine!”
She looked at my bag and smiled.
“Where did you get yours from?” she asked.
“Oh, my Mum gave it to me years ago – maybe twenty years or more – and I think she probably acquired it from a charity shop. It’s my favourite bag. When it gets dirty I just bleach it and wash it and it always comes up as good as new.”
“I do the same,” she said nodding, “and mine came from South Africa over twenty years ago!”
The nice lady with excellent taste let Roland take a photograph or two of us together. I was going to sit beside her on the bench but the seat was wet so she suggested we stand… I hasten to add that I am not over six feet tall and three feet wide – by my reckoning the lady was a petite four feet seven or eight!
Still on the subject of bags, Archer the cat (the elder of my charges here at Charis’s house – I’m house-sitting) joined me while I was painting on the verandah yesterday afternoon. Admittedly, the outside settee had rather a lot of my art equipment resting on it and you might have thought that a furry cat would prefer to lay on the cold concrete on such a hot day… but no, Archer fancied the black shopping bag that normally holds all my paintbrushes! He looked so sweet I had to stop painting and take photos. And there was another coincidence this morning… Whilst waiting for the lights to change at a road crossing in West End, Brisbane, I saw another animal in a bag, this time a darling little dog in a mauve bag suspended from a woman’s neck.
That’s it for now – my blog post is “in the bag”.
What better way to spend two windy overcast days than painting Beautiful Bella, the golden retriever in my book of the same name? I almost don’t want to part with the painting but, of course, it is destined for Janine and Brad who lost their Bella last June.
Bella – Acrylic on canvas 12″ x 16″
The first cub came into being as I painted in my brother Bill’s porch while it rained, the vixen appeared as I fought with the wind in Bill’s gazebo, and the little cub crept out from the undergrowth as I finished the painting in the shade of Roland’s verandah while the sun shone brilliantly outside.
I used acrylics on a canvas about 3’x2′.
Actually I know this dear little face quite well – this is young Mason. Not only is he a gorgeous boy, he is also a delightful model for me to draw, although I must admit that I drew him from photographs rather than life (didn’t think he would be able to keep still for long enough).
Tomorrow I’ll be back with my brother Bill at Tingalpa where I plan to paint every day. Watch this space….
