I woke up yesterday morning and stared up at the photo on the canvas above our bed. The print was of Cradle Mountain in Tasmania. I took it five years ago, walking with my husband on our anniversary weekend. 

As I looked up at the cloudless sky and vast rockface, I decided I wanted that space in our room to convey more warmth. Perhaps an image that expresses some of what I feel and want now, remembering that walk then.

By mid-afternoon, the bright blue sky and grey crags had been covered with paint. I’d started with a rich yellow. Then, over the next few minutes, the entire canvas ended up grey. I scratched in some details of the leaf and two figures. I went to bed feeling disappointment, longing for the rich yellow of the first layer.  I hung the work in progress back on the hook above our bed and tried to savour the freedom and flow of having made time to paint, knowing that I could always work over it later.

This morning, I woke up and added the images that appeared in yellow.

I’m enjoying a sense of self-expression and life. I know that beneath this work is a ‘tourist’ photo of Cradle Mountain. Now, the paint over the top reminds me of the warmth of the sun on our faces, drying our damp clothes after morning sleet, tiny butterlies flitting, the constant murmuration of finches, wind and insects. 

The size of the leaf is awe for the intricacies of every individual piece of nature – every leaf, bark, wing, petal … toes, nose, ears, chins. Yes, the mountain and sky is majestically vast … and so too are the tiny complex systems that form every part of life.

I’m also remembering how rare it was to have time for just the two of us, no other footsteps or voices for hours sometimes as we walked. I want this art to invite me each morning to savour each small moment we have to connect back in our busy, city, parenting lives.

WordPress Daily Prompt: murmuration