Winterdust and Heather

THIS MORNING AS WE LOOKED FROM OUR WINDOW we saw the beginnings of a white-delicate whisper of winterdust moving down from clouds to roofs to windowsills with just a faint damp murmur of a soft sound as it fell.
So today was the day for painting a new winter painting. I trundled the van down the windy roads with a pot of rather horrible medicinal tea and some sticks for the fire and a handful of pencils. Parked in a little corner where the snow fell all about me and pitterpattered on the van roof, I sat in the warm firelight and drew until dark ...and through the porthole I could see a quiet hillside patchwork of winterdust and heather.