I don’t often paint winter scenes on the premise that one should not paint what one dies not love. At least if that “one” is me. I loved winter when I first moved to Canada. But the older I get the harder I find the cold. My son persuaded me to return to the ski hill this winter and I found, riding back to the top of the hill, considerable beauty in the cold, snowy landscape beneath the chair lift. Somehow finding a way to be active and out in the world made winter not only tolerable, but even lovely again.