Monday 23 June 2014

Awaiting their master.


It's an old adage that 'there aren't enough hours in the day'. At this time of year it is poignantly true.

Between eating, sleeping, gardening, mowing, shopping, mushrooming, entertaining, swimming, building, searching, dog-walking, screaming, hand-wringing, spitting-feathers, and despairing, there is very little time left for either drawing or painting.

Oh well, I expect the world will survive for a while, without more of my stuff.


  1. Unusual jug with the handle at the side.

    1. I think they were for heating milk against a fire (the handle wouldn't get hot). With these strange brown and cream mottled French jugs, the side opposite the handle is always scorched and blackened.

  2. And these sorts of the days are the ones you wish would never end. Well, it's true in my case, at least. Although given your idyllic location, i can see you painting en pleine air.

  3. This is one of the problems of working for oneself so to speak - there are so many distractions, all of them seemingly important. Love the jug.

  4. We can see what is on your mind! I like the dancing shrooms.

  5. Yes, I too love the flying mushrooms.

    One day you will wake up and nothing else will matter, except perhaps the dogs being walked, and then you will paint.

  6. Painting for you brings an income, whereas painting for me is an indulgence I never feel entitled to. I relate to your list of things to do, apart from mushrooming (far too early here) and in particular to the feather spitting

  7. I like the hand-wringing and screaming.It's just so Latin!


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