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This 8×10″ oil-on-panel painting depicts the allotments at Howden, just outside Goole in England—tiny, cherished plots where residents grow vegetables, fruit, and hope. I painted it in March 2023 from a sketch made while walking home—exhausted and aching from grief after my mum died. Walking has always been medicine for me: the rhythm of my steps helped me breathe again.
Allotments in the UK have been community lifelines since the 1920s, and Howden’s own sites were established in 1921. They’re places where life blooms and quiet resilience grows, and in the aftermath of loss, watching new green things emerge felt profoundly hopeful. In the painting, you’ll see the rough-sawn border of a garden bed line, delicate leaf shapes emerging, and the weathered posts that mark each plot. These are everyday gestures of care—and they’re full of meaning.
Stylistically, the piece is expressive but calm. I used gentle, confident strokes—greens balanced with earthy ochres and touches of soft grey-blue sky. The light suggests early spring, just before everything bursts with color, reflecting the time I needed before moving forward. There’s no jarring contrast or bold drama—just steady rhythm and a sense of place.
Each brushstroke acknowledges grief without letting it define the scene. Instead, it honors how living things continue to grow. This is a painting about quiet resilience: grief captured, but not held forever. It’s the moment when you see green sprouts pushing through old soil and feel—maybe for the first time in a while—that life gently keeps going.
Framed and ready to hang, Allotments at Howden invites you to feel something gentle and real. It’s for anyone who knows loss, but also renewal; anyone who appreciates life’s small, rooted acts of care. Very British. Very ordinary. And entirely hopeful.