Waking up and looking out into a world covered overnight in fresh snow brings out the seven year old boy in me. Like a lot of other folks I know, I'm getting back into the harness of working to earn a livelihood this week after the sometimes frenetic holidays. Yesterday was eaten by organizational and administrative tasks, and this morning, I aimed to get into the studio early to plow into my backlog of work. But in these days of unpredictable weather, the first snow of the new year is a special event, not to be ignored. So I pressed a pot of coffee, layered on my outerwear, laced my boots, slung my sketch bag over my shoulder and out the front door I went with a thermos cup in one gloved hand.
2015 first snowfall, 10-1/2 x 7-1/4, Derwent Inktense and 2B graphite pencils
It was cold, but not bitterly so - about 16 degrees fahrenheit. The flakes that fill the air this morning are of the fine, light variety that render the colors of the bare trees a soft grey brown, with objects partly covered in snow standing out as abstract shapes in an artscape. It was swirling down thick enough to make sketching a messy proposition necessitating a fast hand, but I look at it more as a way to experience the moment than to produce a beautiful picture. A few minutes of scribbling in the snowy woods reminded me to appreciate that I have the privilege and the faculties to delight in these simple pleasures.