This is a favourite egg. I particularly enjoy painting them, getting different effects from the paint, and the colours are so pretty. I've done some more abstract ones too:
The week has been un eventful. I can’t actually remember much of it at all! Apart form watching the garden grow, which is a riot of all sorts of lovely things:
The wildlife high of the week was a train of tiny black fluffy balls running across the road after mother moor hen! Soo cute! Too quick to get a photo.
We’ve also had our pair of red-legged partridges pecking around in the field outside the kitchen window. Here is a bad photo:
The weeks go by in a blur. I’ve been absorbed painting watercolours and I’ve got some large sheets of paper to try some bigger works. Not sure how that will pan out. I still have half a dozen unfinished oils to sort out at some time; when inspiration strikes or when I look for it.
Yesterday we had an insta worthy chicken that Martin cooked with preserved lemon and garlic and a ton of butter. It tasted as good as it looked:
We also had strawberries roasted with sumac and vanilla with a Greek yoghurt/ cream combo that was nice. We are ploughing through local strawberries which are delicious.
Today I have a lunch date with Maggie before I go to art which feels like a lot to be doing in one day! I’ll be exhausted afterwards (although I start out exhausted so I’ll need to find another description).
No news from Papworth. Still the waiting game. I can’t imagine what it will be like to have new lungs and for doing everything not to be so hellish. (very badly constructed sentence I know) on the other hand part of me also doesn’t want to be suddenly whisked away from my painting and garden.
With the small but persistent thought that I could never come back. Enough of dull thoughts. In theory this time next week I could be all done and dusted and out of intensive care.
Here are some uplifting paintings by Philip Guston, most of whose other stuff I actually don’t like: