by Artist Eye
The American artist, Andrew Wyeth, once said that he preferred the winter and fall because you “can see the bone structure of the landscape”. An astute observer of nature and humanity, Wyeth infused his portraits of the land with the invisible human drama of those who had lived on the land — their stories, like their bones, lying just below the surface.
The woods near where we live strip down to scrub pine and bare branches bristling with lichen this time of year. Tramping about in them, I take stock of what the winter reveals: cocoons and seed pods waiting for spring, ravishing red branches in the bracken, and fresh green water plants clinging to the edges of the kettle ponds where the ice melts back. This simplicity, this winter austerity, is refreshing as I struggle to slough off the tinsel and soft tissue of the old year.