Another year ends and a new one begins.
Having not done any drawing over the Christmas period, I made the most of some quiet time to do a drawing today, New Year’s Day. This is it… a simple study of the fading flowers in front of me.
Fading flowers. New Year’s Day 2018.
As I reflect on the previous 12 months, a variety of emotions rise up in me. Deep sadness for those lost and the space they left in passing. Great admiration for the courage with which friends have faced and overcome challenges, in their health and work and personal situations – both hopeful and inspiring. Ongoing gratitude for the support of friends with my creative endeavours and family with their hands-on help that freed me up to spend a week sailing. And then there are moments that are etched in my memory and stand out, though they only lasted very briefly, as their impact was felt deeply.
There is just one that I would like to share with you. I love to make art, but I also enjoy writing – always have done, but it’s something I do quietly, yet frequently. It was a joy to express my experience and whilst I would love to share with you an image that conveys the magnitude of this moment, I do not have one. This image was taken from a different viewpoint on the following day, so on this occasion, I hope my words will suffice and take you there.
Happy New Year!
The road home, December 27, 2018.
The road home.
I have been home for a couple of days now, taking it slowly, cleaning, clearing, making space for new things. So easy to simply slip right back into the old routine. Instead, making sure that I sit, read, listen and reflect in the quiet days between Christmas and New Year, rather than distracting myself with busy and city. Alone time. Relishing it. And when I think about the days before Christmas, the anticipation and togetherness, my heart fills. So much love and laughter this Christmas. So grateful. Golden memories. In my mind’s eye, I am back to Boxing Day, when we walked to the top of the fell and were gifted a 360 view over Windermere with a rainbow that stretched from the edge of the lake to the closest tree and that moment when clouds parted, revealing snow-capped mountains in the distance and small boy excitedly followed the little old dog we had carried up the hill who was now heading home and big boy smiling, was bathed in the most glorious light and it could have been any day of any year in hundreds, but we were there in the brilliance of that moment and as I had forgotten my camera and refused the suggestion that I return to collect it, I was able to soak up every detail of the moment with my eyes and my heart and hold it there instead of trying to capture it. That constantly changing, yet timeless view spoke directly to my heart and I pondered on the artists and writers inspired by nature’s wild beauty and wanted to stay… or at least return.