100 Paintings in 100 Days

I recently stumbled across a project that has captivated and inspired me. 100 Paintings in 100 Days is a scheme dreamt up by artist, Jolie Guillebeau, as a way of countering perfectionism and encouraging creativity in her own artistic endeavours. She is, as the title suggests, producing one painting every day for 100 consecutive days (she’s up to Day 31).

But here’s the really fun bit: her first painting on Day 1 was put up for sale at just $1. On Day 2, she charged $2. On Day 3, $3. And so on.

I’m entranced by this whole concept. Because wouldn’t it:

• counteract raging perfectionism in sterling, no-nonsense fashion?


• hold a girl accountable to actually produce something EVERY DAY!?


• wean someone who has an abysmal track record of asking for money into actually earning a living of sorts?


• be (at least in the initial days) a terrific gift for people who can’t usually afford to buy art?

There’s only one thing stopping me from unashamedly rushing out and copycatting the entire venture. And it’s a small thing. Tiny, really. I just need to figure out what I could produce on a daily basis that people might truly want!

The Same View: March

On the back of the long, hard winter, Spring is creeping in carefully this year. There’s still no discernible greening of the landscape; and the daffodils, usually blooming by now, are still tightly-budded and only half-grown. The days may be warmer but nights are still cold - as evidenced by the frozen reservoir above.

But there are plenty of signs that Spring is on her way. Farmers are lambing, and gamekeepers are burning the heather on the moors to enable the growth of new plants. The ducks who vanished during the harsh snows have returned and the pool is now brimful of frogspawn. The snowdrops have had a particularly good year and crocuses have now joined the seasonal carpet.

This month you get to choose which photograph represents March: the picture above showing ice on the water; or the evening photograph below where smoke curls from a moorland fire and the sinking sun conjures trees both above and below the waterline.

Name your favourite in the comments below and the picture with most supporters will be our nomination for March.



For previous posts in this series see:

The Same View: January

The Same View: February

A Week of Naps

Joss and Nettle, the Dixon Hill dog and cat, are masters of sleep. Nettie, in particular, - like most of his kind - could win awards for it. Great chunks of their lives are spent travelling through the Land of Nod.

I, on the other hand, am abysmal at the whole business. And I don’t mean I suffer from insomnia. Rather that I’m just dreadful at actually spending time in bed. I stay up way too late then get up early each morning in an attempt to milk every last drop of time from my precious days.

Continual lack of sleep, however, does not make for a super-healthy human. And lately I’ve run myself ragged.

So I’m declaring this week ‘A Week of Naps’; and though it goes totally against the grain to give up valuable ‘doing time’ to sleep, I have to admit there’s a part of me that’s sneakily looking forward to those stolen slumbers.

This week I intend to give Master Nettle a run for his money on the cat-napping front. And to let an old(ish) dog teach me a new trick or two.

Mothering Sunday

It’s Mother’s Day here in the UK. Traditionally known as Mothering Sunday, our day for all things motherly falls on the middle Sunday of Lent. Which means that, like Easter, it’s a moveable feast.

In the ‘olden days’, girls and boys in service would be given a day’s leave to go home, and would often take flowers and a simnel cake with them. The cake (it being Lent) would be kept until Easter, which is the day we more usually associate it with now.

Well I’m cakeless, but armed with flowers….and off to pay a surprise visit to my lovely Mum (so I’m hoping she doesn’t read this before I get there!).

If you’re wondering what the photo has to do with anything, it’s one of her favourites. In fact, it hangs on her kitchen wall as a canvas print.

Now remember - if you see her, mum’s the word!

And if my surprise is sprung, then Happy Mother’s Day, Mum!

You might also like to read this tribute to my mother...

Frogs Galore

Okay, so the photo on the right bears only a very tenuous connection to today’s story. But it’s the best I can do.

The vital bit of the picture is the particular pool via which I‘m waving at you (pond would be too grand a word for this over-large puddle up on the moor). Now bear with me - it’ll make sense in a minute.

On Thursday, a friend was lamenting that the frogs who annually grace her garden pond had not yet put in an appearance this year. Lo and behold, the very next morning, as I was scrambling down the bank to this pool, dozens of frogs leapt for cover.

They’re camera-shy, these fellas and lasses; so there’s absolutely no chance of me getting a picture of them without a great deal of stealth and a very different lens to any I possess. So you’ll have to imagine the scene: little back legs up-ended in the air, splashes and droplets flying left, right and centre. Then stillness. At least visibly. Audibly, the air was busy with what sounded like the hum of a motorbike (and, Joanne, I never would have described their croaking that way if you hadn’t pointed it out, but that’s exactly what they sound like!).

I went back today hoping for another glimpse but they must have heard me coming. No sign. Except for the masses of frogspawn around the edge of the pool.

But I’m tickled pink to have seen these harbingers of spring and hope I get to enjoy more of their antics. And I sincerely hope Joanne’s mini motorbikes turn up soon.