A Curious Development in the Garden

Something rather unusual has been happening in my garden lately.

At first, I thought it was just the usual waking up after a hard frost type mischief, a frog with an unususally loud croak, a flower blooming out of season, a squirrel with a suspiciously purposeful expression.

But then I found the paperwork.

Neatly folded, slightly damp, and stamped with an official‑looking seal that read:

Horticultural Regulation Bureau: South‑East Division  

Officer: Sir Reginald Bullrush

Now, I’m not in the habit of receiving correspondence from bureaucratic departments that may or may not exist, especially ones concerned with the behaviour of plants. But the garden has been feeling… different. As if it’s waking up. As if it has things to say.

So I did what any sensible person would do:

I started taking notes.

I’ve always painted the oddities of nature, the overlooked, the slightly quirky, the creatures that seem to have more personality than they strictly need. But lately, those oddities have begun to feel like characters in a story that’s unfolding whether I’m ready or not.

And so, alongside my usual work, the pet portraits, the patterns, the stationery, the interior‑inspired pieces,  I’ve begun documenting these curious developments. Sketches, field notes, little stories, and the occasional bureaucratic memo from Sir Reginald himself.

I don’t know exactly where this is going yet. But I do know it’s bringing me joy, and a sense of wonder I haven’t felt since childhood. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from painting nature, it’s that the smallest things often grow into the most unexpected stories.

So consider this the first entry in what may become a series of garden reports.

Or perhaps just a record of a peculiar week.

Either way, you’re welcome to follow along.

There’s something happening out there.

And I have a feeling Sir Reginald is only the beginning.