"Mist Rising", 3x4, oil on wood

February is a brooding time,
as if the sun is trying to find itself
a way to be,
but can't.
The sky changes,
the sun shines through,
briefly warming and melting.
Mist rises only to fall
as snow
on the next mountain.

The Betrothal that is Spring, 3x4, oil on wood

Treking through the snow along the river I set up my easel,

a duck splashes one foot with each wing beat into the air,

snow then sun then rain but always a cold wind.

There is a promise that Winter has locked away but cannot deny the betrothal that is Spring.