The garden I have painted sits between my home and painting studio, a space I cross each day, familiar yet always shifting with the seasons. Over the past decade it has become a place of quiet attention and a thriving refuge for wildlife.

Many of the plants began as cuttings from my father, and since his death in 2020 I mark each 20th May here, observing the rhythms of the garden and remembering him.

Tended with a lightness of touch, the garden is allowed to unfold, with native plants and other species shaping its character over time.

What might seem an ordinary domestic space becomes, for me, an intimate landscape where memory, care and the natural world are woven together.