It is March. It is still winter. The icicles hanging from the eaves of our home are beginning to look like they could impale the mailman. I worry about him stepping on our icy steps, so I leave an old bean bag on a shovel in the walkway for him to deposit the mail. More snow arrived last night. It is heavier-more spring like in its weight- harder to lift the shovels over the banks. But is covers up yesterdays grit and the day gleams in the bright sun. The days are getting longer and we can begin to think about ending this long hibernation.
mostly oil with some gold, glitter and drawing
this was a painting I thought I had finished with a few months back, but dragged it out for an overhaul earlier this week.