I received a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my children for Mother's Day this year. They were so pretty, I didn't want to see them fade and die off, and I started sketching them obsessively. That was not enough to satisfy me, so I pulled out a canvas and started painting from my sketches and photos.
As I painted, I began to think of my grandmother. She was the child of immigrants who grew up during the depression era, and lived with hardship and deprivation throughout her youth. She always knew how to make do with what she had, and we often had to remind her that she didn't need to do that anymore. I remember a pot she had with a broken handle. It was cumbersome and difficult to use, but she refused to buy a new one, because she insisted that one was still useable. All you needed was a potholder to wrap around the small bit of wire which was all that remained of the handle, and it was "good as new" in her eyes.
While I am nowhere near as resourceful and frugal as she was, I have always tried to use things until they were well and truly done. I have been fortunate in my life to be able to call this an eco-friendly habit instead of an economic necessity, but I have always tried to make the most of what I have been given or earned.
I thought more and more of my resourceful grandmother and all she taught me as I painted. If ever anyone deserved a bouquet of flowers to brighten her day, it was my grandmother, but she would never allow us to buy her any. She felt cut flowers were a waste of money, because they died after only a short while. I wished I had thought sooner to offer her a bouquet of flowers with a promise to also paint them so she could keep them forever, but alas, it is now too late for this. So I offer this painting in the memory of my dear grandmother who taught me so much, indulged my whims, made clothes for my dolls, cooked amazing foods and loved me unconditionally.