Dawn Among the Delphiniums

Every spring our garden erupts in six-foot drifts of delphiniums—vibrant blues and royal purples that tower like little skyscrapers of color. I wait for them all year. On cool mornings, the first light slips over the fence and turns those spires electric; that’s the moment I painted here. The scene holds a family ritual, too: when friends visit, we hand them shears and send them into the beds to cut an armful to take home. This piece carries that memory—the hush, the glow, and the joy of sharing what blooms.