A is for Art and A Poem

My favourite painting in my home is this one. Painted by Eldest Daughter for part of her Art 'A' Level and using pots with a Hosta and Nasturtiums from my garden. 

Without a flash there was a horrible reflection - with the flash a big spot of light.

We didn't keep another large piece she did of broken dolls - it was very odd. But she got an A for art, went on to Lowestoft College for an Art Foundation course and then to Winchester School of Art for a textile print  design course. Later she worked for several different companies including Monsoon.

I was never any good at drawing or painting and although 4 years of Art at Grammar School (I was forced to do Latin in the 2nd Year instead of art- hated it!) got me an Art 'O' Level, it was done without learning anything! and that was despite the fact that one teacher we had for a year was the Great Great - not sure how many greats - Grandson of John Constable. And despite my best friend at school being the daughter of  Lawrence Self.

Nothing to do with A for art but someone told me about this poem and it was added  to drafts for November this year so long ago that I can't remember who, when, where or why.  It was time it was published  so A for A  poem.

November Skies

Than these November skies

Is no sky lovelier. The clouds are deep;

Into their grey the subtle spies

Of colour creep,

Changing that high austerity to delight,

Till ev'n the leaden interfolds are bright.

And, where the cloud breaks, faint far azure peers

Ere a thin flushing cloud again

Shuts up that loveliness, or shares.

The huge great clouds move slowly, gently, as

Reluctant the quick sun should shine in vain,

Holding in bright caprice their rain.

And when of colours none,

Not rose, nor amber, nor the scarce late green,

Is truly seen, --

In all the myriad grey,

In silver height and dusky deep, remain

The loveliest,

Faint purple flushes of the unvanquished sun.

By John Freeman

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Sue