Years later, in 2015, a chance visit to the Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi UAE was a breath-taking experience. Extensive botanical motifs all around the exquisite Mosque raised questions about the origin and history of the plants used. Realising a gap in information, the germ of the idea about working on the plants of the Holy Qur’an was born.

Working from living material was always my main criteria and is essential for accuracy and authenticity. Finding the correct species and the heritage variety took me on a fascinating journey including the deserts in the UAE to see tiny 1mm flowers on what seemed insignificant succulent stems that turned out to be intriguing and colourful under the microscope. The message was not to be fooled by first impressions as looking in depth often brings out the fascination and beauty of nature.

Travelling to remote communities in the Hajar mountains of Oman to see how food plants have been grown for generations and viewing the co-operation of sharing water through the ancient Falaj system of stone channels bringing water down from the mountains to irrigate farms collectively, was a system in sharing to be admired.

Mediterranean olives, Moroccan figs, dates from Sharjah, garlic and pomegranate from Oman, Ethiopian bananas, the toothbrush tree from Dubai and home-grown lentils from New Zealand were some of the treasures. Every plant had its challenges – from tiny millimetre flowers to large palm trees – all were part of the jigsaw puzzle.

Each painting took months to complete – the research, travel to different countries, field notes, preliminary sketches and colour notes needed to fully understand the plant species and its characteristics were the precursors to composition, design and the final illustration. Drawing 1 mm scales on the male cones of the Cedar of Lebanon, tiny hairs on Tamarisk seeds, transparent arils of pomegranate seeds or hundreds of dates; all had their challenges and rewards.

Speaking to a friend recently resonated with me as she related the seed from the date palm to the strength of her Muslim faith and told me about the Fateel, the thread or funicle that joins the seed to the inner side of the fruit and the Qitmeer or protective sheath around the seed. I was aware of both which she used as a unit of measurement from the Qur’an to judge deeds good or bad – relevant however small.

Then she mentioned an even smaller aspect of the seed the Naqeer or dimple in the seed which I was not aware of. So, in the interests of science, I had to eat a few more delicious dates and sure enough this tiny dimple was there – but how had I missed something so important? A measure of good deeds or the actual point of emerging germination?!

I learnt from that moment to look even more carefully and that regardless of our creed or culture, close observation, whether spoken, written or drawn is the common thread between all of us and is our strength to share and impart information for the betterment of all.

My fascinating journey culminated after eight years in a five month long solo show at Kew, and the book publication with Shahina and Kew. Receiving the Jill Smythies award from the Linnean Society in my opinion recognized the calibre of botanists I have been lucky to work with over the years, – so a humbling joint effort. I could not have achieved what I have without the help and generosity of spirit of so many others around the world, so I thank all.