When I was a child, maybe 5, I fell in love with this wild rose. My memory of it returned in detail while I was researching photos to use for inspiration in order to draw it out and paint it.
My older brother and I would often spend time with our grandparents during the summer months. They lived on a farm with acreage in Michigan. It was not uncommon for them to say to my brother, my cousins and me , "Go dig up some worms and put them in a tin can. We're all going FISHING FOR DINNER!"
There was a creek in their woods; and on the bank we would fish in a spot that curved around, creating what they called "the fishing hole". There were always fish in that spot. Always. As a child I would sit on the bank with my tin can, and drop in a baited line.
One time, while fishing I noticed there was the most beautiful, delicate, pink rose on a small bush growing next to me. My instinct when I saw a beautiful flower was to pluck it and save it for my mother. This pretty bloom was no exception. But when I reached for it, sadly, the petals all dropped off. Worse than that, it bit me with its thorns. I screamed in pain and frustration that I couldn't appreciate it in any way other than in that very moment. All by myself.
So here I am today with the rose, painted as I remember it as a child, thorns and all.
My Etsy Shop is open again and the wild rose is listed in several sizes. In time I would like to offer it as a detailed lesson in watercolor.
