Dear You,
Look what happened, twice!
The wind smashed the great pot of oleander - the oleander survived (well, he has a long practice from clinging to the centre strip of the autostradas in Italy...) but the pots--- not...
For weeks now we have a very strange wind, hot, it reminds me of the short story of Raymond Chandler, "Red Wind".
"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge."
To strengthen my jumpy nerves I started drawing again - since I call it "illustrating" I love it more, because that takes away the stress of higher aspirations. I am not an artist as Rachel or Tom or Cro - just an amateur who knows quite well that I paint way to precise, use far too small brushes (but have a good eyes for colour), and as the storm blew me a twig from a plane tree in front of my feet, I used it for "my little daubs", as Miss Mapp always put it, looking in the hope for getting approval.
She - not me! :-)
I always forgot to ask: Do you draw as a hobby? Or how do you use your creative talent?
Yours truly,
Britta