© Hannah Phelps
Winter Color Study
oil on board, 12" x 16"
More snow is coming to New Hampshire and I am thinking about how this winter has been particularly cruel to quite a few people I know and care about.
In the last couple of months, my father was in and out of the hospital for breathing problems. His health continued to deteriorate and now he is gone.
During a brief stint at home between hospital visits, Dad was hooked to an oxygen machine and couldn’t leave the house. “I know how a leashed dog feels”, he told me over the phone.
Meanwhile, an artist I know reported that he broke his ankle after slipping on an icy driveway. He won’t be painting for a few months.
Another painting friend of mine hurt her knee and needs to take it easy for a while.
I know more than a few folks who have been bed-ridden with illness in the past few months.
And I also remember people I’ve loved who lost their mobility, sight, hearing, and even their minds to old age. They lost their ability to do the things they had enjoyed their whole lives.
So even though I don’t really feel like it, I’ve painted some landscapes, learned a new printmaking technique, competed in an agility trial and attended my figure drawing class.
Because I can. My limbs are healthy. I have nearly perfect eyesight. I breathe freely and easily. Who am I to take any of this for granted?
Even though I didn’t feel like it, I recently cross-country skied in the melting, squishy slush and I am going to ski on the snow that is on its way now.
Because despite what those in New England think right now, the snow won’t last forever.
And apparently neither will I.