Last week, when I thought winter in Sweden had long gone, there was an unexpected fall of snow.
It came heavily and suddenly one night, submerging the yellow and purple crocus flowers which had already started to grow in the lawns and gardens. It really was rather magical. As inches of snow fell late into the night, I sneaked out into the woods next to my house and did some sketches of the snowflakes falling, set against the dark midnight blue sky, knowing somehow that this would be the last snow I would see for a while.
Over the next few days while the temperature rose and the snow turned to slush and my colleagues moaned about where Spring had gone and how sick and tired of the snow and the lack of sunlight they all were, I finished my painting.
I have decided to call it “Snow Falling Soundlessly”.