We wait and wait, yearning to take off our coats and macs and when Summer eventually comes every warm sunny day becomes precious and to be treasured. After a very wet winter, spring and summer rain continued to flow endlessly, the countryside and gardens stayed forever green. No scorched earth this year, the wildflowers kept flowering when people stopped cutting verges and no mow May allowed the buttercups to flourish. It was a good year for buttercups!
Ox eye daisies covered roadside banks and roundabouts; pink rosebay willow herb followed by purple loosestrife coloured the greenness; blackberry flowers turned into delicious fruit.
A few mini, short lived heatwaves came and went with strong winds to follow.
Strange weather – or has it always been this way?
There are Christmas cards in shops already! but apples are still ripening and waiting to be picked. The sun sets earlier every day but the clocks don’t go back until the end of October. Roses are still blooming but leaves are gradually changing colour, the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness is waiting in the wings.
Summer is going… but not just yet.
Winter lingers on with rain filled days and grey skies,
blossoms cover hedgerows and birds begin to sing,
daffodils are blooming – it might as well be spring.
Rivers overflowing, meadows under water,
wind is blowing through the trees, the sun is rarely seen,
Celandines and catkins , primrose paths and puddles,
it might as well be spring.
It’s coming!
To be in my garden is to be in a place where memories are planted in time and space.
As the month of March comes to an end, I reflect on how I have struggled to paint, overwhelmed by endless grey skies. Venturing into my garden in between the showers I am always amazed how nature seems to cope and the lawn is abundantly thick and lush. Wild flowers are appearing …… daisies, celandine, primroses. Early cherry blossoms have fallen but the damson and blackthorn are in flower, while apple and hawthorn wait their turn.
My daughter and I visited Swanage on a rare fine day and walked to Peveril Point. The cliffs are eroding and there are warnings everywhere not to walk to the edge but we found a seat where we could gaze at the views of 9 barrow down and Old Harry rocks. The bay was calm and the colour of the sea constantly changed from turquoise to silver.
Swanage has been a favourite place for many artists and it is easy to see why.
The light is extraordinary.
In early spring, before the summer holiday crowds descend to the beach, the cafe on the pier is a most delightful spot to watch the world go by.
Fisherman’s cottage at Swanage.
“Don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous”.
Rumi
This is one of my favourite quotes for this time of year when we notice the day light hours gradually increasing. Very slowly at first and then it seems to gather pace. I went into our garden this morning at first light and the birds were already singing. I have found it difficult to paint with every day being grey and dark but the rain and wind has at last given way to bright very blue sky days. No longer “pink dawns and white sunsets” (Thomas Hardy ) I can see pink sunsets and golden dawns.
Hellebores are happy to bloom in the winter cold and two viburnum bushes have been covered in pink sweet scented flowers since December. The garden will be full of colour in the spring – snowdrops, crocus, celandine, daffodils will flower again and roses will bloom in June but right now I can see trees that are strangely more beautiful without leaves as I watch the early morning sunrise light up each branch and trunk.
I have a wonderful book of gardening quotes which are truly inspirational.Another favourite is “a garden should feel like a walk in the woods”We are fortunate to have many trees in our garden and space for them to grow.Over the years my husband has planted fruit trees, silver birch and beech while Hazel grows everywhere side by side with ash seedlings. It is all about the trees someone once said to us while visiting our garden in summertime…
They were right, an artist’s garden is all about the trees as well as flowers. It’s time to paint them while the sun shines!
Grey clouds heavy with rain hang over loch Fyne and the sun remains hidden for hours on end. Walking in a Scottish rainforest, rain drenched oak and beech trees bend their branches towards the moss covered ground while leaves begin to cascade into the fast flowing river. We tread carefully along the footpath, swallows fly low and fast – catching their last meal before the end of the day. As summer becomes autumn they will leave us for warmer lands.
A stone circle appears in Temple Wood, in Kilmartin Glen, close to standing stones and cairns. A ritual landscape with hidden meanings, still not fully understood.Rock art has been discovered in this ancient place of mountains and moors – was it art for arts sake or has it a deeper message. This is a mystery.
I touch the moss, I touch the bark, I touch the stones.
At last the clouds disperse and give way to gentle sunlight and a hint of pale blue sky. The golden leaves glisten and the mountains reflect their beauty in the loch.
The landscape is an enigma to me, a complete contrast to the chalk hills and ridgeways of Dorset but the moors and forests remind me of the Studland Peninsular in the Purbeck Hills where the heath meets the dunes. Where dark green conifers mingle with silver birch and hazel. Brown bracken covers the heather, no longer purple. This is a place I am always inspired to paint but maybe the muted tones of a wet autumn in Scotland and wild skies will somehow find their way into my art. We shall see.
People walk so quickly by,
eyes down, phones in hand,
always in a hurry, why?
April, May, June, July ……. 4 months pass in the blink of an eye.
Will they look up when all is gone ?
When cliffs have crumbled, footpaths tumbled, down into a rising sea.
I stand and gaze at racing clouds and listen to the wind,
See reflections in a rain soaked lane and hedgerows filled with flowers
The people walking quickly by will never see a changing cloud,
a falling leaf, a butterfly.
But if they pause and raise their heads,
By looking longer they may see the wonders in the sky.
Lin Adams ( July 2023)
As an artist I am always looking at colour, changing seasons and landscapes.Nature is my inspiration.
I only wish more people could take time out to “smell the roses” and look at everything around them. Walking in some gardens in Somerset recently I noticed the following wise words written a few hundred years ago by a botanist….
“Wonder at everything even the most everyday things”
Wise words indeed.
Blue lake at Steeple Langford. (Wiltshire Wildlife Trust)
Wetlands in the Purbecks
After a wet, cold and very windy March/April, beautiful May is here and yet the rain still keeps coming. The bluebells and blossoms love it and the cow parsley in our wild flower garden is growing taller every day. It is waiting for the sun to shine before it eventually becomes a gentle haze of creamy white flowers. Marjoram, lemon balm, mint and chives fill the herbary; The pink campion bank and blue forgetmenots having self seeded are mingling with bee loving comfrey.
Buttercups, daisies, bugle and cowslips grow in the lawn which has been left uncut for a while but it is still too cold and wet for bees and the butterflies are struggling once again. I watch and wait for butterflies, despite the abundance of wild flowers only a few orange tips and blues emerged briefly a few days ago; we can only hope bees will return soon to set the blossoms and spread the pollen ……..sadly every year we see less.
On a positive note, the birds keep busy singing and building nests whatever the weather. I sat in our garden the other morning just before first light to listen to the dawn chorus, it wasn’t raining – what a glorious way to start the day!
The herbary
And so what to paint? Finding inspiration has been difficult during the long dark days of winter but after the spring equinox there was a subtle change and shift of energy. The trees and plants felt it too and once again the garden has greened up and overflows with nature and wild life.
A perfect time to get the brushes, paint and paper out and see what happens, feel the vibrancy of fresh colour around me and with any luck I may even see a spectacular sunset.
Each season is unique and special. Painting with emotion and feelings that the changing seasons give us is something we can be grateful for.
To feel the leaves come tumbling down and see them tossed in the autumn winds is a brief moment in time. It’s mid November and memories of heat waves and scorched grass in summer have almost faded. Showers followed by long periods of heavy rain and mild weather have given the gardens a new lease of life. Almost spring like.
This cannot last, inevitably everything must rest and pause and wait for winter to come.
“Don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous”. (Rumi)
In the woodland bright red holly berries appear and Redwing from Scandinavia arrive in flocks to feast on them.The sun sinks lower in the sky every day and the nights grow longer. Sunsets are brief, rare but beautiful.We light our candles and begin to add sparkle to shop windows. We crave light.
The winter solstice followed by Christmas is celebrated. A turning point. Without noticing, the days grow longer, and slowly but surely light returns. Snow drops followed by daffodils. Bird song and nest building. Spring!
To quote Dorothy Wordsworth “ it is a pleasure to a real lover of nature to give winter all the glory he can, for summer will make its own way, and speak its own praise”
Leaving the frenetic seaside town of Weymouth behind us we stop at the Fleet Lagoon and then cross the Ferry Bridge causeway to a new marina on Osprey Quay. The historic Ferry Bridge Inn was sadly demolished recently but Portland Castle built by Henry V111 stands sentinel just along from the quay. A must see for another day.
Driving up a narrow, very steep road from Fortuneswell, “ houses above houses” as described by Thomas Hardy in the Well-Beloved, we reach Easton, park in Tesco’s, leave the car behind and walk towards a quarry. Two old 17th century windmills and wild flower covered footpaths create a landscape just waiting to be painted. We are in another world. Our footpath ends at a road but crossing over we find a thatched roofed museum – the inspiration for Avice’s cottage in The Well Beloved. There are large pieces of fossilised wood in the garden creating natural nature sculptures. We walk on, under an old stone archway and look up at Rufus Castle (Bow and Arrow castle), its 15th Century ruins still clinging on to the top of the cliff.
Then a real treat awaits us… Church Ope Cove, on the edge of wildness.
The cove is rocky and has a pebble beach… steep steps will take you down to the beach but we stand at the top, gazing out to sea. It’s a blue sky day, very warm, the sea is turquoise and unusually calm.
Retracing our footsteps we walk back slowly towards the quarry and onto the lower path enclosed by high banks of valerian, mallow, ox eye daisies and birds foot trefoil. Red, mauve, white and yellow. Free flowing and untamed. A myriad of colour.Houses are being built in a disused quarry close by and more likely to come, but in the meantime, butterflies and insects can roam and feed in this beautiful wild flower garden covering the creamy white limestone, glistening in the sunlight.
The Isle of Portland remains an enigmatic place. Often hidden by mist and surrounded by turbulent sea. Migrating birds pause here in spring, butterflies find warmth and sanctuary in summer, fog or flood warnings can be heard in the autumn with landslips constantly changing its shape over time. Boat yards, quarries, houses, all chip away at this strange island of stone but the foot paths are still there, waiting to be walked.
My daughter Sam and I recently enjoyed a lovely spring picnic in the magical landscape of Banbury Hill, north Dorset. Walking from Broad Oak village via enchanting woods and delightfully named Banbury Cross we climbed a steep narrow lane, found a muddy footpath leading onto wide open grassy fields. It was warm. The views took our breath away. We ate our sandwiches and drank hot soup. Perfection!
A spell of warm weather had held on for one more day and overflowing with inspiration we promised ourselves we would paint the views of the distant hill fort of Hambledon or blackthorn blossom covered hedgerows. Contrasting colours of golden yellow pussy willow reflecting in a dew pond in the foreground with a sunshine sky above lifted our spirits and we thought, surely winter is finally over.
Not to be… while Blackthorn is in blossom there is always a risk of extreme cold weather, even snow… the following day, icy winds returned.
Wearing our thick coats, scarves and hats to keep warm, we will go back to this beautiful area to look again at the carpets of white anemones, primroses and early flowering bluebells. We may not be able to paint outside just yet but we can dream.
One of my favourite walks and an inspiration for painting in all seasons, is a nature reserve and wetland area close to the bustling seaside resort of Weymouth in Dorset. It is a calm and tranquil place and in winter the reed beds and water channels are so very beautiful, opening out and stretching towards distant views of the mysterious Isle of Portland and gleaming white chalk cliffs at Ringstead bay and beyond.
Silent Marsh Harriers fly low, noisy geese gather in groups, lapwing feed on the mud flats then suddenly rise into the sky, their black and white feathers glinting in the sunshine. Grey herons and white egrets hide in the marshland areas at the water’s edge, quietly fishing.
Sweet scented purple buddleia fills the hedgerows in summer, pretty michaelmas daisies line the pathways in autumn, blackthorn blossom is everywhere in springtime, and golden brown marsh grasses with silver grey wild clematis create a palette of neutral tones in January.
When the winter sun lights up this haven of nature it becomes the perfect place to sit , watch and be still.
As autumn becomes winter, days are short, sunsets brief. The winter solstice will soon be here. My daughter and I wrap up well and continue our walks in nature, always finding inspiration for painting in the countryside around us.
At Pamphill common ancient oaks cling on to the fading colours of autumn, their leaves still tinged with russet and gold.A hollow way takes us through high banks of fresh green ferns and delicate catkins on hazel branches reflect into green pools by the river Stour. Glorious deep green cedars at Sherborne Castle contrast with magnificent larch and evergreen spruce trees in the Broadoak woodlands near Sturminster Newton creating a magical space where white winter sunlight filters through on to bracken covered pathways. We wait for the Redwing to feast on the red holly berries. We stand quite still and inhale the atmosphere. We look at the scene in front of us while we drink hot tea and eat our sandwiches. A winter picnic is as good as a summer one, well almost.
In spring the oak woods will be carpeted with bluebells, the hollow way will have primroses and snowdrops but in the meantime we will enjoy everything that winter has to offer. It is often tempting to stay in and sit by the fire but if we wrap up well and go out who knows what we may find for our next paintings.
Our weather is unpredictable and always changing. Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.
The opportunity to paint outside is often short lived and must be relished when the wind and rain stops and it becomes warm enough to sit in a field or by the river, with paints, sketchbook and a picnic. If you blink the light changes, the clouds start rolling across the sky, the sun struggles to shine and bright colours fade into more gentle tones. The essence of painting outside is to work with speed and try and capture the landscape before it rapidly becomes a different landscape. No distractions.
Perhaps the best thing to do, if you can, is to paint your feelings and senses with the sounds of nature all around you. Listening to the singing birds in hedgerows under an ancient oak tree, my daughter Sam and I gazed quietly at the gentle Blackmore Vale and distant blue grey hill ridge. When fully absorbed we took out our brushes, mixed our paints and began. We didn’t chat. The birds kept on singing.
The opportunity to paint outside is often short lived and must be relished when the wind and rain stops and it becomes warm enough to sit in a field or by the river, with paints, sketchbook and a picnic. If you blink the light changes, the clouds start rolling across the sky, the sun struggles to shine and bright colours fade into more gentle tones. The essence of painting outside is to work with speed and try and capture the landscape before it rapidly becomes a different landscape. No distractions.
Perhaps the best thing to do, if you can, is to paint your feelings and senses with the sounds of nature all around you. Listening to the singing birds in hedgerows under an ancient oak tree, my daughter Sam and I gazed quietly at the gentle Blackmore Vale and distant blue grey hill ridge. When fully absorbed we took out our brushes,
mixed our paints and began. We didn’t chat. The birds kept on singing.
The winter pause goes on and on but spring is almost here,
as if by magic bees on blossoms suddenly appear.
Anemones in woodland glades, primroses and cowslips,
Blackthorn, and cherry plums,
a garden in the landscape.
Pink dawns and silver sunsets,
Fierce winds then gentle breezes,
Rainbows after rain,
Waiting, always waiting, for dark grey skies to brighten
Into canopies of blue.
Nest building, birds singing, golden dawns and crimson sunsets,
days are longer, feel the colour,
earth brown fields are emerald green.
The long pause is nearly over
and Life begins again.
Just after New Year and 2 days before the third lockdown, we went to Arne and Coombe Heath in Dorset for a brisk winter walk. Many others had decided to do the same and on every bench, families enjoyed picnics. It is one of my most favourite of places any time of the year. Autumn for the rich red/golds of leaves, spring for bright yellow gorse, winter for bracken browns and evergreen pines, summer for purple heather covered hills.
There are stunning views towards the Isle of Wight on top of Coombe Heath and the estuary waters are filled with wading birds.
Shipstal Point at Arne
Driving to this most exquisite of areas in Dorset is out of the question now as we must stay local, stay at home and certainly no sitting on benches with picnics!
Staying local in the Blackmore Vale offers a different kind of landscape in wintertime.Walking the footpaths can be difficult as there is so much mud ! – the clay soil which hardens and cracks open in summer, fills with rain water in winter creating flooded lanes and river meadows. Whether it is reflections in wet pools and sunsets in the Blackmore Vale or silver birch woods and gorse at Arne, there is a never ending supply of naturescapes to paint.
River Stour in flood, Sturminster Newton
Nature has no rules. There’s no stopping it, it will not be locked down.Snowdrops, crocus, daffodils, bluebells are seeking the light and birds will soon be singing in choirs. Swallows will return, flying together, no social distancing needed.
Even though we may not be allowed to gather in groups, sit in parks with picnics, fly to foreign lands and have to keep our distance from one another, there is a quiet change taking place as winter becomes spring, we just have to pause and listen to it.
On Shaftesbury hill we paused and looked as somewhere, far away, the light was shining.
Autumn rain and mist had covered the vale but beyond the ridge, clouds had parted to create an opening in the dark, grey sky. With the wind on our faces we waited and waited for the light to come nearer, just a glint was all we wished for that day.
It didn’t come.
In sheltered lanes, beneath the hill, we walked through leaves
and found the seat where Summer butterflies had massed
on sweet scented buddleia.
Brown bracken now draped itself over bramble covered pathways where we knew hidden trails would lead to a gate, to a field, to a view
We know it’s there, we will come back and stand in the sunlit meadow again with bees and butterflies, flowers and tall grasses.
We now seek brightness in Autumn trees, golden leaves and holly berries,
crisp cold days with clear blue skies, different shorter days of light to be held and cherished in our gaze.