Frances Palmer Artist

02/09/2026

Bit of doodling. Quite enjoyed a bit of architecture art. Many moons ago I used to draw artist impressions of new builds/renovation projects for an estate agent. I had actually forgotten that until I was scribbling away.

02/09/2026

Back to creativity after a short walking break in beautiful Norway. Covered over 80 miles including a 2300ft climb down from the top of Mount Nesaksla, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. A trail of Sherpa built stone steps, ropes, chains and very slippery tree roots and boulders 🤣 (Pleased to report no breakages this time Jan Bowden Teresa O Reilly 🤣🤣🤣 I must be improving!)

Anyway, here is a 'Doorway in Norway' for artistic content and for Wye Valley Flowers

25/08/2026

Tucked away where the shadow of the fjord meets the quiet tree line, this weather-worn shelter feels less like an abandoned shed and more like a cathedral for forgotten journeys. Its sun-bleached rafters curve like the ribcage of a leviathan, arching over the small wooden boat resting in the cool gloom.

Once built to cut through icy waters, the little craft now anchors itself to the forest floor, tilted gently as if listening to the rustle of fern leaves instead of the tide. Sunbeams slip through the timber slats, lighting up decades of saw marks, hand-carved joints, and the soft green moss reclaiming the damp earth below. It isn't just decaying; it is slowly unspooling, letting the forest take back the timber and the silence hold the stories of every voyage it left behind.

24/08/2026

16/08/2026

When the grandchildren are given free rein to be creative ❤️❤️❤️

14/08/2026

Top tip for seed harvesting lavender.

Creativity on another level.
Who knew the holes in a loose leaf tea infuser were the exact same size as Hidcote lavender seeds. This means I can separate the seeds from the chaff more easily 😁

12/08/2026

View from the office today

Framed by the dark, ancient boughs of the cedar, the world unfolds in a silent expanse of gold and green. Here at The Wilderness, the heavy needles act as a living lens, drawing the eye past the sun-warmed crest of the hill and deep into the rolling canopy of the Forest of Dean.
​Beyond the dense, whispering tide of treetops, the landscape opens into a patchworked tapestry of fields and gentle ridges, where the River Severn winds like a ribbon of molten silver under the haze of the afternoon sky. It curves through the valley with quiet grandeur, tracing the edge of time and geography, while overhead the dark silhouette of evergreen boughs stands guard—a cool, fragrant shelter offering an timeless gaze across the heart of Gloucestershire.

08/08/2026

Crazy stocktaking session. Seem to have sold out of Christmas bats and octopuses 🦇 🐙 🤣

08/08/2026

After extricating this emerald miniature from my fruit bowl and depositing it back outside, this Speckled Bush Cricket holds court on the velvet blooms of lavender. Its colossal, glossy eyes—wide and luminous—drink in every shift of shadow and light, tracking the world in sharp, widescreen detail. Sweeping vast above its delicate body, two impossible antennae, twice the length of the cricket itself, arch through the summer breeze like sensitive whips, sampling the air for the faintest whisper of movement or scent.
​Beneath its intricate, pollen-dusted markings lies a masterclass in kinetic grace. With astonishing agility, it coils its long, spring-loaded hind legs, ready to transform a serene rest into a lightning-fast leap across the swaying stalks in a fraction of a heartbeat. Silent, precise, and effortlessly limber, this tiny acrobat turns a simple lavender sprig into its own majestic stage.

07/08/2026

Today I had the pleasure of a visit from this emerald aviator, flying into the house making the most incredible whirring sound, natures ultimate aerial architect. This masterwork of biomechanics—a creature built from three hundred million years of unyielding design refinement settled on the curtain long enough for a captured image of it's elegance.
​Look closely at the fuselage: a sleek mosaic of vibrant emerald plates interlocked with dark obsidian bands, tapering into a segmented tail that acts as both rudder and counterweight. Above it rises a cockpit like no other, dominated by towering compound eyes that curve around the head to drink in the world in near three-hundred-and-sixty-degree precision. Thousands of microscopic lenses register motion with a speed that renders human flight computers sluggish by comparison.
​Then there are the wings—four delicate, shimmering sails constructed from a latticework of stained-glass venation. Each cell in that translucent grid is an engineering marvel, designed to flex under pressure, withstand turbulence, and channel air currents with zero friction. Driven by powerful flight muscles, these wings do not merely flap; they rotate, hover, reverse, and pivot independently, granting this creature complete mastery over gravity.
​Perched motionless on the metallic curtain ring, it rests like a fighter jet refueling on a tarmac, its delicate spined legs gripping the ring with effortless anchor precision. It is at once ancient and futuristic: a living blueprint of grace and raw predatory perfection, waiting for the briefest twitch of air to launch back into the sky.

**Possibly a Southern Hawker **