There aren’t many wild areas on this island. There are few natural habitats left where flowers are free to bloom with the seasons, but nature is incredibly adaptable and versatile. The greatest of oak trees grows from a tiny seedling, and alpines can grow on the harshest, steepest winter slopes. And even in Malta, nature can sprout in the most unlikely places, from a crack in a pavement to an abandoned rooftop.
The life cycle of a flower is like watching a baby transform from a helpless newborn into a youngster with a sense of humour and a fascination for even the most mundane. Flowers open with the sun, and curl up to sleep at night, taking in the sun’s rays and embracing the light, as a baby embraces its parent. The roots grow deeper, strengthen, and continue to nourish the flower into adulthood.
Paintings don’t always come so easily, and rediscovering your passion for it when you’ve taken time away from the easel is even less so. But I’m grateful that I am able to put some of my experiences of motherhood on paper, however imperfect they may be. I don’t think I can ever do this time of my life justice in paint, sketches or writing, but the joy is in the trying. It’s documenting the quiet motherhood moments, the moments of blooming and watching the roots flourish as you nurture them.
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