A crust of ice.

We finally got a little snow here in Maryland, and though it doesn't even approach Cleveland standards I'm willing to feel it's better than nothing. A few inches, total, and shelled by that evening in a crisp layer of ice. This is what I remember best from growing up around here, the days when you awoke to a two-hour-delay because the trees, road, and everything else had been encased in clear ice overnight. The brilliance of sunlight refracting through the ice-covered twigs. The occasional, heartrending gunshot from the forest as a tree broke in half under the ice's added weight.

I took the opportunity of being somewhat stuck inside for the past two days to finish this image. I started work on it in July, lost it among my possessions for a long time and then rediscovered it a few weeks ago. It's probably the most ambitious watercolour I've attempted since entering college five years ago, and I'm still ambivalent regarding the outcome. Any comments are critique would be much appreciated.

9 x 12" on Strathmore. Ballpoint and Watercolour.

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