This is a field of yellow flowers. I didn’t note which species on my photo, but I know enough about yellow composites to know each flower is not that remarkable on its own. It probably had a woody stem, perhaps even slightly prickly, and they usually have a fragrance that is…well, stinky. As I painted, I thought of the thousands and thousands of acts we go through as mothers – the small things that alone don’t amount to much, honestly, they too might be just a wee bit stinky. However, if you can get a bit of perspective, by climbing a tree, standing on your car, or perhaps a stack of calendars and yearbooks the big picture can take your breath away.

From My Rotting Body, Flowers Shall Grow, and I Am in Them, and That Is Eternity
—Edvard Munch