Reflections in the Shed Window

There it is, in the background, my studio, aka The Tardis, and the poles for the runner beans; but what is not reflected is that washing line, high up above the garden, where the clothes are pulled up by ropes, and whip out in the wind. This is, apparently, a form of line constructed from those who have been in the navy. Tony was working in the merchant navy when he was 15, the boat had to be fettled and they were in Venice for a fortnight……

Portsmouth is apparently full of these washing lines..

Mirrors, Water and Reflections 2

When my small studio was built up in the vegetable garden, my husband bought a door. I was imagining a door with much glass, whereas this door just had a decorative strip of cut glass down the middle. Somewhere, a more conventional conservatory-type door existed in the garden, so he held that up to the door space, and then held up this more “door” door, and I could see that it had a better feeling. The design of my octagonal studio was based on a hat box which was on the floor of the room where we eat. Half-way through the build he thought there was not enough room for storage, so he cut into the three back panels half way up, made some cupboards, roofed them. Two ships portholes in the back walls, then two side windows and this door. I sat down in the place when it was finished, hoping it would be a place to work, and within seconds I knew that it was perfect. My son said: “The last place you worked in was hell (an old cow shed) but this is heaven.”

Tony had a catalogue of floor types. We both liked the same one but agreed it was too expensive (he built the studio, with help from a friend, and I paid for the materials, with the proceeds from an illustration job); and then when the floor arrived, he had ordered the one we both agreed was unaffordable. I have never reimbursed him, as we both know. I wanted this piece of floor in the doorway, with “Orient Fruit” printed on it.

Mirrors, Water and Reflections 1

For February, I am posting imagery of water, reflections, and mirror images, as a change from winter sunlight in The Scottish Borders. This is not a winter image, as the swans at the moment are inhabiting the Lees, the big field in which different crops are planted, and which has a path running alongside the Tweed where I used to walk, when I wandered further afield than I do now. Somehow the last two years have contained the self within a small radius. Though the mind still goes wandering.

But the year turns towards the light. We are still here. Some of us are still here. And Miss Ruche, the damaged blackbird, is back in the garden, where she has her own spot in the shadow of the Tardis, my studio, where she gets her own share of mealworms; and the swans are back on the Lees.