Years ago my mother wrote in a poem that winter is more mind than snow – but this winter it’s hardly even that – the snow seems to vanish before it even makes an appearance. Fleeting - hardly a trace of the snowfall from last weekend. We were lucky to enjoy the stuff while it lasted, last Tuesday, Valentine's day.
Part of a cottage at a Catholic retreat - Wilson St., Ancaster
pastel on watercolour paper - 9½ x 14½