Summer time brings the bush rose outside my bedroom window into full bloom. It’s a delight to awaken each morning and smell their fragrance. Yes… roses that do offer a sublime scent that goes straight into the brain and sends endorphins of pure pleasure through the body. Nothing like the perfect, yet devoid of scent, commercial roses found in most florists or roadside stalls today. Real roses thank you very much!
I’ve learnt over the years that bush roses are traditionally short lived once picked. Their petals flop and quickly fall, taking their scent with them. Knowing this, however, doesn’t inhibit me from loving the ritual of using my sharpest gardening shears, gathering as many as the bush will allow, and bringing them inside to fill my tiny little cabin with their beauty, perfume and grace. Bliss.
Last summer I began seeing visions of pale pink roses on a dark background. I found myself buying a small set of oils, a few canvas boards and began translating the visions into little paintings. There have only been five small artworks completed to date. A couple of prepped boards still await my return, and I have no idea when? It was like the Muse arrived one day, played with me and then left, just when the game was getting interesting.
Oh well… maybe she’ll come back to play again next summer.