Farm pears

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Farm pears (8″ diameter oil on raised panel)

I painted this one from a photo I took at my parents’ a couple of years ago. They have a few fruit trees and that particular year, the pear trees were obligingly full of fruit – plump and hanging low on the branches.

Perhaps I should change the title to “A Study in Green” from Tom’s playful poem.

A Study in Green

“It is a mystery!” said Holmes
examining a pear
and recollecting weighty tomes
to learn what might be there.

“You see, through looking-glass I see
these fruit so ripe upon their tree
yet when I gaze with mine own eye
I do see nothing! Just blue sky!”

“You have the glass most angled, Holmes,”
good Watson did reply.
They both were lying on the ground
beneath the summer sky

amidst the greenly ripening pears
ignoring all the farmer’s stares
who had hired them to discover
where his wife would meet her lover.

“Oh, I see!” said Holmes at last
and bounced up to his feet
inspecting carefully the grass
still green in summer heat.

“This is the place! I do declare
where the lovers made their lair!
Just look how olive drab the shade
has turned the turf where they have laid!”

“How could you know?” the farmer asked,
and Holmes gave his reply:
“The lover was myself, of course!
And now it’s time to fly!”

Tom added: “The greens of this piece made me immediately think, “A study in green”,
which jumped me to “A Study in Scarlett”, which was the first Sherlock
Holmes novel. :-)”

image (c) 2019 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2019 TJ Radcliffe

Thistle

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Thistle – 8″ diameter oil on raised panel

I have a few other paintings that were done earlier, but I wanted to share this one right away since Tom’s poem made me think of Remembrance Day recently past. When I painted it, I was enjoying the form, colour and texture …but I appreciate that Tom sees things in my paintings that give another layer to them, a whole other life.

The heather’s deep, my bonny lass,
where horses haven’t trampled down
the sturdy men and brittle grass
this day when all our sorrows drown
and somewhere pipes are calling still
across the glen and through the hills
to bring us back from wrack and war
which we will study no’ the more.
We do not answer, rise, nor march
to follow down the piper’s call
for we will feast in other halls
beneath the sky’s eternal arch.
Above us still the thistle grows
Our prickly, coarse, and perfect rose.

image (c) 2019 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2019 TJ Radcliffe

Mouse-eyed view

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Mouse-eyed view (oil on 8″ diameter raised birch panel)

My first round painting! So much fun to try this. I kind of love it. 🙂 Hard to photograph though because of seeing the background so I blacked it out digitally.

I adore Tom’s playful poem for this! It made me see my own painting in a new way. 😀

A mouse-eyed view from way down here:
it sees the world all round
and sneaks along without a fear
upon the secret ground.

A blade of grass is ever-tall
to creatures of the Earth.
The trees and stars both rise and fall
above a mousie’s birth.

“For I was born,” might say a mouse,
“with Maple crossing Mars
and Douglas Fir in Retrograde…
the fault’s not in my stars

but in the trees that chart a course
across the stars so chill.
For as they turn so does the world…
and yet, I have my will.

Although I cannot move the trees
I’ll bend my life’s own course
and chew down grasses to the lees
and dance without remorse

beneath the high and distant sky
where silent stars all drift
above still trees where soft winds sigh…
my life is Fortune’s gift!”

image (c) 2019 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2019 TJ Radcliffe