Leave the wildest last

Where the grasses are tall,
and the moon is high -
by the old arching bridge,
where the river runs by -
wild poppies roam...
Untainted by the city
they grow for no-one;
they toss their heads,
and dance. A rare right -
When round beauties;
are left free.

This is also my favourite. I like sitting down and saying "see what you can draw in five minutes of bio madness". Fine doodling is one thing; but hazy sketching is something else. Something really invigourating. When my dad lived on a solar powered farm I remember how the old geese pen would rise up in wild poppies - a mass of light purple and red. I like that poppies are delicate and fragile and are one of the few flowers that don't really take to a vase too well. They like the ground; they like to be wild and free. Thank you for humouring me for the last six days and letting me release my new prints one by one. I've enjoyed giving each of them a story most of all. Now they paitiently wait in my etsy shop for some dear browers to find and love.

Back to the world of blogging I go! I seem to remember being hooked on houses...