A picture paints 1000 memories


A picture paints a 1000 words.  When you are the subject senses and memories are captured too.  Mixed in with the colour the brush immortalizes a fragment of your essence.

My mother’s friend Di lived in a house who’s terracotta walls blended into the setting of her home in the Valley of 1000 hills in Natal.  Mum placed a wicker chair under a tree in the garden and I sat in the shade holding my precious doll Sophie.  I was heartbroken when I lost Sophie but in this picture she remains with me always.

It is not easy for a child to sit still, I sat in that chair for hours.  As Mum sat behind the easel I watched chickens scratching in the rich earth.  I listened to birds calling, absorbing the song which spoke to my soul.  I smelt the sweet blend of earth and flora.  Patterns of branches, leaves, light and shadow wove a deep peace, integrating me with stillness blanketed in nature.

During breaks from sitting I wandered in the garden looking for butterflies.  Watching them flit and rest.  Dancing in perfect movement, perfect colour, perfect life.

I wore a dress made in my grandparents factory Lynwood Fashions, in Salisbury, Rhodesia.  Now my grandparents are gone.  The dress and factory are gone.  Salisbury and Rhodesia are gone.  When I look at the painting they all return in vibrant memory.

You can look at a selection of Mum’s art on this link

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  1. My mother painted me, too. It’s a wonderful memory of both the good times of childhood and my mother. Thank you for this.

  2. This is a very nice memory for you. Thanks for sharing.

  3. Beautiful painting and beautiful memories 🙂

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