The painter must be a close watcher of nature. From a very early age, I trained myself to be alert to the treasures God places before our wondering eyes. So, when a rareFirst Snowfell on the brilliant autumn woods near my home town of Placerville, I was ready.
I still remember my tromp through the crunchy, new snow on a crisp October morning. The air was radiant with the lights of two seasons - the flaming golds and muted greens of the autumn woods, and the dazzling white of a new winter snow that still clung in profusion to the boughs. The rural lane, with its rustic rail fence, seemed to entice me on a journey from fall to winter.
As I pass through the seasons of my own life, the great cyclical mystery of God's seasons deepens for me. I recognize, especially, that the gradual transition from one to another is filled with wonder. When, as inFirst Snow, the dramatic change of season is the work of a single night, the effect can be startling and thrilling.
I paintedFirst Snowyears ago, but beauty is the gift that goes on giving. The blessed morning God gave us all those years ago can still bless your home with beauty today.
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