I realised early this week that the end of summer term was devastatingly close; in most other people this would instil the desire to work very hard before the holidays came to put an end to all that. I, however, realised it was more important for me to spend some quality time with myself, being quiet, contemplating, doing strange rituals to the garden spirits; the sort of things you don’t do while the family is about. That way, I can enjoy my family time properly.
Besides, midsummer is a time of rest, when the sun stands still in the sky (if you believe literal meaning on solstice). I’m not really a sufferer of ‘artist’s block’, though there are certainly times where I don’t work. There are equally times where I work a lot. This does not stress me out anymore. I know from my observations of nature fallow time is normal, ordinary and beneficial. I see it often in seasonal house plants that are kept warm and do not get to have their dormant rest. They become ill feeble and burnt out. What I’m trying to say is sometimes it’s beneficial to lie still like a potato quietly waiting underground for some good weather.
After two days my main achievements were lying in the hammock and upgrading the bucket pond from a plastic bucket to a fancy wooden half barrel, yet I still managed to be so productive on Wednesday I spent most of Thursday wondering why it wasn’t Friday yet. I also got really excited because we found our first frog, which we raised from the tadpoles I rescued from a drying puddle. I was very proud. So proud my son asked if I was that proud of him too. I said ‘Of course, mundane human son’ very reassuringly, even though he’s not grown any tiny legs recently. The way tadpoles grow legs is fascinating.
Midsummer is also the time that the mugwort starts to blossom and I always gather some in at this time, and dry it for incense.
The Latin name for mugwort is artemisia vulagaris- Artemis, of course, is the goddess of the moon, and I always feel the plant is best viewed around midsummer at night, the pale green flowers appearing silvery under the moonlight. The thing that truly fascinates me about mugwort is the ancient belief if you dig it up on St Johns Eve (23rd June) you’ll find a coal that wards against snake bites and poison. Sadly, I’ve never found any coal under mugwort, magic or otherwise, but I won’t let that stop me from adding it to by drawings.
Mugwort is not an easy sort of plant to draw, but I think I’ve done it justice here; at least, I like the print, which was a surprise. There were a few experimental areas that I wasn’t sure would work. I think I will like it even more once I get the second layer of colour down, but you’ll have to wait for next time to see that. I’m not sure it’s a very desirable print but I learnt a lot making it, and enjoyed myself too; besides, I suppose if the was someone that wants a print of mugwort, there’s quite a limited market for that.
Last piece of news: the kestrel babies have fledged. There are kestrels everywhere, it’s wonderful. See you next time x