This is me.
The hidden door houses a store of essentials unknown to us until the time we need them most. At that moment the door appears magically and yields to us a treasure that eluded us until now. In grasping the gift the door dissolves until we need it again.
Lately I am feeling like a woman of infinite resources but I have many tricks to learn. I’m grateful for the hidden door.
As long as there are birds outside I tend to count my blessings. Am looking forward to the starlings returning later in the year. Its a sport I indulge in watching them hop along the telegraph wires just beyond my bedroom window. Swapping positions one up, one down, like they’re making room for each other, A civilised conference and not much hanging about.
Their song is a sweet substitute for the lack of sun in the morning.
This is a study of the back garden over which my little Highgate sanctuary looked out upon. I did several drawings of my Malaga garden and likewise it was a preferred subject of mine when living in London. Continue reading