brushes with reality

A nephew, catching sight of the jars on my studio window-cill (or is it sill?) once asked me what all the paintbrushes were about. “Well, these are the flat ends for straight, choppy and also consistent strokes,

the sweetest flower

On a chilly morning, and swapping the annoyance of no hot water for a walk under an uncertain sky, I made my way to Kew Gardens to see the famous bluebells.