Pattern of leaves, 18 April, 2020

There are leaves drifting everywhere, each one with its own intricate architecture. These are from the incense plant, deeply scented. The cutting was given to me by a friend, a poet, and it took root happily and is now a small tree.  Stories emerge in the days of isolation which show a changed world out there. I heard of an older woman living alone in her London flat. The neighbours noticed that the food left at her door had not been brought into the house, so the police were called and broke down the door to find her unconscious on the floor infected with Covid 19. After two weeks in hospital she has recovered, but with no memory of what happened.

Another woman, suspended from work, has taken to gardening with complete absorption. I think the structure of leaves is akin to the architecture of the body and while gardening, memory and thinking stop for awhile. The garden kindly takes me into itself, and I can forget. 

Diana Wood Conroy, 'Pattern of Leaves', watercolour on Arches paper, 15 x 21 cm, 18 April 2020