[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 17 May 2024].
a year later... or thereabouts.
So, it's been a year since Mum passed. Well, kind of.
I mean, she died at 06:10 on 1 March 2023 AEDT, but for me, that means her time of death was actually 19:10 GMT on 28 February 2023.
So, for me, that should mean the anniversary of her passing was on 28 February 2024.
Except that this year is a leap year, so 06:10 AEDT on 1 March 2024 was 19:10 GMT on 29 February 2024.
Confused yet?
If I base the anniversary on the date she passed away in Australia (as that's where she was), then I'm posting this late. But it's still only 1 March 2024 here in London, so I guess I get longer to mark the anniversary.
Has anyone noticed I possess a certain sentimentality and a penchant for marking such important dates at precisely the right moment?
Though I didn't have a chance to post about it at either of the potentially recognised moments, it's been on my mind for some time, particularly during the evening on 28 February when it felt like I should acknowledge the passing of a year since her death.
Dad and I acknowledged the anniversary within the hour of her passing on 1 March 2024, his time, in our family WhatsApp chat.
Yesterday afternoon, a little before and a little after my day's sitting with Francois ended, and before I left for my first sitting of the year with my regulars, I edited these two photos to share with this post acknowledging the anniversary.
Although I don't think she had any particular preference for daffodils (I don't remember them appearing often within bouquets she bought or received), her death will now be inextricably linked to them in my mind because of her passing on St David's Day and, in particular, because of her Welsh ancestry.
So, I was already thinking ahead to today when I photographed these two specimens in Frank's backyard the last weekend I sat him in mid-February. Knowing there would be photographs of daffodils as part of my tribute to her this year, as I have access to very few photos of her, and most I've already shared. While thinking ahead to the date and time conundrum as the impact of this leap year had already occurred to me by then.
One thing I didn't get to do while I was visiting Dad was to pore over their photo albums. Two weeks isn't a long time when you're working part-time, sorting through your deceased mother's personal effects and catching up with family you haven't seen in person in about three years.
I didn't know how I would feel one year on. If I'm honest, I still don't.
I mean, there's definitely been a sea of emotions surging around me for the past week or so.
I initially hoped to write my thoughts on the "exact" anniversary (for me). But practical matters had to be dealt with. So, instead, I sort of softly welled up thinking about it without having the time or capacity to put the feelings into words. But knowing I would when I could.
I know it's cliched to say it feels like less than a year, but in the same breath, to say it feels more than a year. But it does.
It's been less than a year since we said goodbye as a family and scattered her ashes.
It's been more than a year since she and I last spoke. Or rather, I spoke to her, as she didn't have many words left by then.
So, the passing of time since her passing has been warped and bent. Though that's not uncommon. I know others feel similarly about the passing of their loved ones, even without the added confusion of leap years interfering with their marking of time.
I wrote a lot about her last year. And I don't doubt I will write more in time. I took photos while visiting my family in Australia that triggered memories, anecdotes, and so forth that I hope to capture in words. Some I'll capture for myself. Others I'll share.
In the meantime, as Spring drags its feet returning to England, the daffodils rush in and bloom on the verges and traffic islands, in suburban gardens, central London parks, cemeteries, the local supermarket, the vase in the entry to our building placed there by my Welsh neighbour who lives downstairs. And in my mind.
For Mum. In her memory.
granny-pop-out-of-bed
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 17 November 2023].
This post isn't the first time I've shared a photograph of hedge bindweed for my series, a floral tribute. And I'm sure this won't be the last.
Despite being considered a noxious weed in the US and being able to overwhelm and pull down cultivated plants, including shrubs and small trees, and potentially toxic to humans and animals, I think the flowers are beautiful. I tend to photograph them in most places I find them.
In particular, because they're often found in the least beautiful places: by railway lines where people have tossed their trash, growing by or over derelict structures, in the overgrown perimeters of parks and other tended spaces (often alongside brambles and, in this case, stinging nettles).
Reading more about them, they seem like something out of a horror film: they can self-seed, and their seeds can remain viable for as long as 30 years. And whole plants can regrow from discarded roots. Apply those concepts to "dead" humans, and you have the storyline of many of my favourite horror films and novels.
passiflora caerulea
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 28 February 2023].
I knew the floral name passiflora through a Flickr friend's username over a decade ago but had never seen one or really even knew what they were.
But then, on a photo walk late last year with Sarah, another Flickr friend I met around the same time as I met Mary Elise, we noticed some Passiflora caerulea overhanging a fence facing onto a park that is literally around the corner from the first two flats I lived in when I moved back to London in 2011.
They are beautiful, intricate and eye-catching flowers.
I was pleased to capture a couple of photos of them that day, though the daylight was starting to fade as we passed through Nightingale Gardens.
artichoke
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 10 June 2022].
Once again, I'm reminded of why I love photography.
I love to eat artichoke, but it never occurred to me that's what I had photographed in a garden on Mersea Island until I popped the photo into a plant-identifying app.
It also never occurred to me that the artichoke is a flower. I knew we eat the "hearts". I didn't realise that they bloom and become inedible if left to their own devices.
When I saw them, these flowers reminded me of protea and some brassica species, which I love. I photographed them because they were eye-catching despite not recognising them.
Because I have such a massive backlog of photos to edit, sometimes it takes me years to learn from the photographs I've taken. But that doesn't make the learning any less enjoyable.
hedge bindweed
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 13 May 2022].
wisteria sinensis
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 7 May 2022].
cherry blossoms
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 30 April 2022].
shirotae
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 23 April 2022].
I'm happy to be corrected, but I believe this is shirotae, a cultivar of Japanese flowering cherry or cherry blossom trees.
Found a couple of doors down from the house at which I've been semi-regularly cat-sitting since Christmas time.
Such a lovely sight to behold over the Easter weekend.
beach aster
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 15 April 2022].
birrna
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 10 April 2022].
Banksia integrifolia or coastal banksia.
untitled #174
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 27 August 2021].
I took a little break from #FungiFriday the past few weeks, but today they're back :)
a gentle reminder
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 19 June 2021].
A second long, emotionally exhausting call today. The final clarification. Confirmation of the closing of a chapter.
I got some answers. I got an answer I expected, but that still stung and disappointed me.
At the end of it all, I still feel there are puzzle pieces forever lost down the back of the couch. But the jigsaw was thrown out months ago, so does it really matter anymore?
After the call and freshening up, I ventured outside into an overcast day.
And there, in our garden, just by the path across the front of the building, I saw a poppy.
I've never seen them in our garden in all of the five years I've lived here. But there are also some - yet to flower - along the main path. I noticed them on my return from the supermarket.
I took some photos with my phone on the way out but took my D700 down to take some more once I had returned and put away my purchases.
Seeing this delicate beauty in my yard - seemingly having appeared out of nowhere - was a gentle reminder to me on a day like today. When everything feels like it's gone to shite, that even in darkness, there is beauty.
There are new beginnings to be discovered and embraced. Unexpected but treasured.
The past two years have been difficult and stressful for me for so many reasons, and the past six months feels like it has reached a fever pitch.
Maybe this final gut-punch is what I need to move forward and find my focus again. Focus that's been gone for too long. But particularly so in the past year.
I value genuine lovers, close relationships, loyalty, honesty and openness. But I've never defined myself by my romantic relationships.
I've never needed a relationship to prove my self-worth, and sometimes they actually serve to make me lose sight of my own self-worth and direction.
To lose focus by creating a distraction and additional problems to solve, instead of solving the most important things I should be focussing on.
And, at times like these, I'm reminded that I crave new beginnings. New seasons of self. And the blossoming of new ideas and opportunities.
Here's to new beginnings.
068 crocus
Day sixty-eight of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
Yesterday, in the final quarter-hour of the day, I snuck in a more simplified sketch of an illustration I'd saved as a potential element of a collage for last year's project.
I'm still undecided on whether it's easier to draw from someone else's illustration than to draw from my own photographs.
This year, after all the work we did in the front garden last summer (not at all coincidentally), just after a snowfall, we had our first orange snow crocus bloom. It was the first time I'd seen one in the almost five years I've lived here.
It was lovely, but it did fade very quickly. I captured an, unfortunately, out of focus photo of it one afternoon. But by the time I had another chance, it was withered and sad, like a deflated balloon nestled on the bark.
Instead of drawing that (though I may sketch it another day), I present to you a more positive, blooming crocus.
Original outline drawn with a 4H pencil, then drawn over with an HB pencil. Keeping it simple.
061 lily
Day sixty-one of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
Yesterday, in the final hour of the day, I decided to attempt one of the more abstract, close-up photographs I took of one of the lilies a neighbour gave me late last year.
At some stage, I'll tackle one of the photographs of them closed. And then one of them open. But they feel like they will be more complicated, and I don't want to try to do it in a rush.
In retrospect, I probably should have shaded the dark green stems rather than just outlining them with a heavier pencil. Especially given I had done some shading for the shadows on the petals. But I won't beat myself up about it too much now.
I quite like that - without the source photo - this sketch is a little confounding. And, perhaps, a little confronting. I mean, it's at least vaguely anatomical-looking. But just what piece of anatomy it might be, not even I can decide.
I'd love to hear your interpretation of what it looks like. The more outrageous, the better, really.
The initial sketch, including shading on the petals, was drawn with a 4H pencil. The outline of the petals was traced over with the same, just heavier. The stems, toward the bottom, were drawn over with a 4B. The stamen were drawn over with a B pencil. (Alert: new pencil in circulation!)
I hope you have a lovely bank holiday weekend planned. I'm planning more paid work. More photo editing and hopefully getting my next Love Letter to London online. A virtual hen party for a friend. And long-distance birthday wishes for someone close to me.
060 sunflower
Day sixty of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
I've been meaning to draw this photograph for a while. But I knew it would take time and a reasonably large amount of concentration, so I had left it for a day like today. When I had daylight while I was sketching and when I wasn't rushing to finish in the final half-hour of the day.
I quite like how it came out, even though it's not photorealistic by any stretch.
I was worried that, when I got into it, I would find it too difficult. But I decided not to go for a super detailed version.
I sketched it all with a 4H pencil then used a mixture of 2B, HB and 2H to go over the leaves, disc florets and ray florets, respectively.
I should get some more planted again this year.
053 sunflower
Day fifty-three of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
As I was drawing the sunflower, I swore I would end up missing a petal or adding a petal that wasn't there.
When I was adding the leaves behind the flower, I thought I had done precisely that.
But it seems, looking at my sketch next to the source image now, I somehow rotated the petals in one direction and the leaves in another. Consequently, it created disorientation that meant the leaves on the right are all out of whack.
The large leaf on the left was intentionally excluded as I ran out of space on the page. Despite the sketch appearing in square format above, I photographed it in portrait format. I then used the fill tool, set to 'content aware', in Photoshop to recreate a square canvas during editing.
I used a 4H pencil for the initial sketch. I then went over the leaf outlines with a 6B, the leaf veins with a 4B, the petal outlines with an HB pencil and the petal details with a heavier 4H. The disc florets were drawn over with a 2B pencil.
What is now yesterday was a better day mentally, emotionally and nutritionally than many of my recent days.
Even though I found out the client work I'm doing might start to become more erratic. That's mostly fine with me as I want to seek out work more up my alley and pays better, though obviously more uncertainty right now isn't helpful.
Related: If you or anyone you know might like to become a patron, please send them the link to my Patreon. The more, the merrier :)
Aside from existing projects and others on a slow simmer, I had an idea for a brand new photography project on Wednesday evening. I'm hoping to share the first image from the series next week.
I'm also hoping to share this month's Love letter to London with you later this week. I had planned to share it with you last week, but my life right now has been all curve balls and no mitt or helmet.
I hope you're all doing okay. This lockdown has been hitting me and others I know in London harder than the one that started about a year ago.
Life isn't rushing back to "normal" (and I'm not sure I want it to, in some ways). But we're getting closer to safely open up, and I'm pleased my parents and many I know have already had their first dose of the vaccine.
029 daffodil
Day twenty-nine of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
I sketched this early evening yesterday. I then spent the rest of the evening working on my latest love letter to London so that would go live for my Patreon patrons in February (just!)
I picked something not too difficult to draw because I knew I would be pushed to time. I'll attempt drawing this guy in full bloom at some point during the project.
I worked with a 4H pencil to get the sketch down then went over the outline of the stem and leaf with an HB pencil. I emphasised the flower head by going over the outer edges slightly more heavily with the 4H.
I mentioned on Friday that we have several "new" plants coming through this spring. I put new in quotation marks because, clearly, they've been there for a while, but they've had to fight to get through everything else. The work we did last year has suppressed the bulk of the weeds and grass.
This guy is one of them: our single, solitary daffodil.
He was pretty early in appearing but didn't beat the solitary orange snow crocus to bloom. And expire. Unfortunately, the crocus didn't last long. I wish we had a whole yard of them. They're really rather lovely.
According to my plant-identifying app, we also have some snowdrops growing. They've not yet flowered, so I have to trust the app on that.
There is a hyacinth (just the one so far), which is new this year and looks set to flower in short order.
The bearded iris I planted late last year - gifted to us from a neighbour - appear to be coming along nicely. I need to brush the soil back from their rhizomes to allow them to see the sun, though. I'm looking forward to them flowering as they will be blue and there's quite a few of them.
The hydrangea has new growth on it despite how ill it was treated by the weather over winter. I'm hoping the dahlias manage to come up again too, but I'm not hopeful.
My plant-identifying app also tells me there's some wild garlic sprouting. I'm super excited about that and hoping it's not an instance where it's wrong (it's variable in its reliability). I love smelling wild garlic in the cemeteries we visit. I didn't even know it was a thing until a few years ago... Om nom nom.
I'll try to share some "proper" (read: DSLR, not mobile) photos from the garden on my Patreon this week when I have a chance.
026 spider plant
Day twenty-six of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
I snuck this little guy in with about twenty minutes left in the day so posting it late.
Yesterday was a mostly positive day, starting with a chat on Skype with Dad before some soup and telly, then bed.
Just as I was about to start work, I got a call from Simon. We were able to talk longer than the previous day, and he was able to send me some photos of the shooting location in Berlin.
Almost halfway through my planned working hours, I took a break to have a long-overdue catch-up call with a former co-worker. Though a lot of the discussion was negative in content (related to our shared workplace), it was a good call as she is always lovely to speak with. It was a pleasant way to break up my workday.
Today's sketch was a calming little flower on our spider plant from late last year. I drew it all in 4H and decided not to go over it with a heavier pencil.
I'm not sure I captured the three-dimensionality of the stamen. Especially as I shaded the tips pretty solidly without thinking about the variations on them, but it mostly seemed to flow okay today.
sun-bleached santa
[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 10 December 2020].