First Snow

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 rare First Snow fell 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 in First Snow, the dramatic change is the work of a single night, the effect can be startling and thrilling. I painted First Snow years 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.