Lessons from the past...

What haymaking and carrot 'whiskey' taught me!

Warm, sunny days: it’s time…

I walk slowly along the lane, accompanied by the sound of bees, and a chaffinch, singing from a nearby branch. The fading cow parsley stands tall, swaying gently, like an antique lace ruff, around the field edges. Verges have been mown. The sky is summer blue, with only the odd cloud to punctuate its vastness.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him; making preparations, last minute checks, before…

…I hear the tractor engine cough into life and I watch as man and machine set off, cutting swathes, making hay. I stare from beneath the shade of the solitary horse chestnut tree. Round and round, up and down; long grass is cut, swallowed up and finally spat out the back of the mower. As I stand, memories flood back of my Grandad, a gentle man who joined the cavalry as a young lad. He later became a brick-layer before turning to farming. Very much old school, I recall him with his whetstone, sharpening his scythe, before cutting the grass, falling into a gentle rhythm; swish, swish, step, swish, swish, step… With modern times, comes ‘progress’, but there was something about watching this wiry man slowly working his way across the meadow, that was so meditative, so peaceful. That same rhythm served him well when tying and stacking the dried grass into stooks; gather, tie, stack, gather, tie, stack…

A barking dog wakes me from my reveries; I walk on. Near the copse, great stands of elder reach skywards, their panicles, like tea plates, tremble in the breeze…

Blossom has already fallen from some flowers; tiny pinpricks of berries beginning to swell, conjuring thoughts of my Mum’s attempts at making elderberry wine. Early failures, where the wine tasted more like vinegar, spurred her on. Each year, she tried again; gathering, crushing, sterilising bottles…until she perfected her vinification. Rhubarb wine joined the elderberry on pantry shelves. She then discovered a recipe for carrot ‘whiskey’. Duly made and bottled, it was stored in the pantry - supposedly for a year.

Picture the scene; a winter’s evening, we’re sat watching television. Suddenly, we heard a crack like a gunshot, followed rapidly by a salvo of gunfire coming from the kitchen. We looked at each other, confused. Poking our heads round the door, we saw nothing untoward. Another bang. The pantry! Tentatively opening the door, we were met with a scene of devastation. Corks lay scattered on the floor like empty gun cartridges. Bottles, some standing, some laying on their sides, others shattered…golden liquid pooling across the floor, dripping amber nectar from the shelves. The aroma…! We heard a hissing noise, so rapidly retreated, slamming the door firmly shut! Bang! Bang!

The remainder of the evening was spent cleaning up; mopping and sweeping away all Mum’s hard work.

Did it put her off making wine? No! She continued until a new hobby took all of her free time and interest.

Eventually, the exploding carrot ‘whiskey’ became the stuff of family legend; a story told and retold many times, each time fresh laughter at the memories…

Why am I regaling you with tales of my family and childhood? Because they connect to my creativity; the traits and behaviours. Having rhythm, harvest and fallow periods. Perseverance to ‘harvest',’ to push the work; resilience to help me through the fallow times.

“Like tiny seeds with potent power to push through tough ground and become mighty trees, we hold innate reserves of unimaginable strength. We are resilient.”

Catherine DeVrye, The Gift of Nature

One trait that neither my Grandad nor my Mum possessed was pride; they didn’t boast about any of their achievements, they didn’t push themselves forward, they didn’t consider themselves remarkable in any way…even though they were!

Whilst acknowledging that publicising/advertising my art comes with the territory, I admit to feeling uncomfortable with it - see image above! Taken at a successful exhibition, having my photo taken alongside one of the sold pieces was seen as obligatory, but I felt awkward at being in the spotlight as you can see from my expression… (Apologies for the reflections etc; it wasn’t the best lighting).

Any apparent confidence at art fairs is very much a ‘front’; inside, I’m quaking!! And when it comes to discussions around price and selling - well, I can literally feel myself shaking at the prospect…much to my OH’s frustration!

Advertising my website, or my work on social media, is something I have to consciously do - I don’t want to come across as a ‘pushy seller’! But a comment from a subscriber, (thanks C), that they didn’t realise I had such a body of work, and that my website took a little finding, well, I realised that putting ‘things out there’ once, and imagining that was that, was possibly not the best marketing strategy. Equally, stating that, even though my Substack posts are free, there is the option to become a paying subscriber if you are in a position to, and feel that you would like to support me, is not something that I regularly do - contrary to all advice about running a Substack.

But ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ so, having ‘girded my loins’, and put my ‘big girl pants on', here’s links to my website, YouTube channel and Instagram account - idiom overload nothwithstanding! Oh, and I will pop a Subscribe button at the bottom of the post - might as well go ‘the whole hog!’

P.S. I do, periodically, create some ‘marketing’ media; here’s a video I made that still makes me smile!

It’s almost the end of the month, so that means it’s time for the Paid Subscriber Lucky Dip Draw. This is by way of an extra thank you to those of you who support my work financially; it means a lot to me! This month’s ‘winner’ will receive this small, original artwork:

And the winner is:

I will be in contact with you shortly via email! Thank you!

Until next time, happy painting!