Little Painted Wooden Things
My small cottage in the woods seems to have sprouted another studio. Well, I say studio but neither are actually rooms to themselves.
As with any creative pursuit, what was once intended becomes something else entirely. Something akin to a voracious and well nourished plant that takes over parts of the garden it wasn't meant for – so it is with the little Wooden Things in my home.
There is of course a dedicated painting room – but I never paint there. I always find myself perched at my Grandparents old oak table which sits by a window in the lounge room. I have been sitting at this table since I was seven years old and it feels like family. From this childhood seat half way up a Scottish hillside I can see right across the wooded valley, not a single house in view.
In the warmer months I watch the swallows dart over a field of fox gloves and occasionally get distracted by cloud watching. Little, small, low clouds sail up the valley like small fishing vessels returning home. I am quietly besotted with their pace and tranquility.
When the weather becomes 'Scottish', which can happen at anytime of year, the wood burner and its kettle puffs away gently, ready and willing to provide warmth, tea and the curiously comforting company of fire.
And now there is another space – a small zone for painting and painted wooden things. What began as, "I'll just pop that over there to dry", expanded and multiplied until it became obvious that the little Wooden Things have demanded a place in my house.
They are very welcome.
As with any creative pursuit, what was once intended becomes something else entirely. Something akin to a voracious and well nourished plant that takes over parts of the garden it wasn't meant for – so it is with the little Wooden Things in my home.
There is of course a dedicated painting room – but I never paint there. I always find myself perched at my Grandparents old oak table which sits by a window in the lounge room. I have been sitting at this table since I was seven years old and it feels like family. From this childhood seat half way up a Scottish hillside I can see right across the wooded valley, not a single house in view.
When the weather becomes 'Scottish', which can happen at anytime of year, the wood burner and its kettle puffs away gently, ready and willing to provide warmth, tea and the curiously comforting company of fire.
They are very welcome.
an artist's box being prepared for decoration...
a Christmas Nevalyashka slowly taking form...
A Harebell box...
a trumpeting bunny from 'The Rabbit Cabinet' ...
a 'please shhhh' bunny from 'The Rabbit Cabinet' ...
wooden feet...
Dare I say it – no not yet...
A field of tea cups – slightly potty...
a family gathering...
And just in case you're wondering who I keep in a cage .....
His name is Figaro.
Don't worry I let him out occasionally ;)
So much magical loveliness here, its all like a beautiful dream.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Sarah. It does sometimes feel like I'm living in a dream and and more and more it feels like it's not my own. ;)
DeleteI really enjoy seeing your spaces and places!! Thanks for sharing a glimpse of your world! That Harebell Box is just FABULOUS! LOve it LOVE it!! ~ and the field of tea cups makes me smile ~ I may have to plant some! *giggle* Happy August to you!
ReplyDeleteHallo Melody :). So glad you like them and yes I'd like a field of bone china teacups too. I hear they only like to be watered with tea, probably why they are so rare. xx Happy August to you too
DeleteWhat a wonderful blog! I absolutely love the idea of a field of teacups, and it's a gorgeous image. So much magic, so much amazing creativity and wondrous objects on this blog post. You've been incredibly industrious. Hmmm, how much is in my piggy bank? xxx
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Fiona - I feel a field of teacups is necessary for people who drink as much tea as we do ;) xxx
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