arrival:
it is quiet, very, very quiet
walking:
i hear only the crunch of my footsteps and the crack of the trees
daily, my feet get to know the changing texture of the snow and gradations in the land
observing:
i am captivated by the bare and dark silhouetted lines of trees, berry canes, wild fennel, dried ferns and shrubs against the snow
foraging:
i bring the outside inside
painting:
i look, i mix pigment
i paint what I see
my hand records the way my eyes follow the lines of the branches
