The wind has been blowing from the North Sea, forcing the leaves of the Italian Alders to loosen from their branches. The boughs of these trees seem to be formed by the force and direction of the wind as they lean inward, stooped but sturdy.
The garden is a wonderful place to be on an autumn day. The flowers planted and maintained by lovely friends are still blooming, giving a welcome burst of colour.
The dog rose has transitioned from white and pink blossoms to bright red rosehips. If I had time and patience, I might try to make some rosehip jelly, but alas, time is short right now, so I have simply sketched one of them.
Along with a dried thistle head.
Good evening Monique.
Ten autumns ago I lived in Wick. I had quite a miserable time and I was alone, so I often walked along the coast. One day, not far from my flat in Pulteneytown, I saw a bush of dog rose, sheltered from the sea winds by a boulder. I was surprised, as I didn't expect it to grow so far North, while it grows aplenty in my parents' village in Italy, where we call it "gratachí" - "bottom scratcher". That bush warmed my heart.
Years later I moved to Central Europe. After a few weeks I joined a guided trip to the countryside, even though I didn't speak the local language. What was the first plant that…