There is a very brief moment in New England where the snow melts, the ground melts as well, but slower, and the earth is covered with water; running down hillsides, filling and over-filling rivers and ponds, spreading into glinting puddles in fields before they can be tilled.
Before the water can completely consume the landscape, the ground melts, and the surface water sinks in to be ground water, or flows down the tilted landscape to the ocean. At the moment the water begins to disappear, the green begins. Trees standing with their roots still covered by water start pushing the first sprightly bits of color. The first green is so intoxicating – these absurd flashes of chartreuse and brilliant reds at the very tips of the branches.
I thought I needed more brown fabrics, but in fact, what I needed was to organize and dig through the fabrics I actually own. I found this array of browns and tans, some with gold – I was particularly hoping for brown with gold so it was gratifying to find these pieces.
Then I finished getting the colors down for the spring river piece, and starting stitching on the fields. The outrageous thunderstorm last night prompted an outburst of blossoms and baby leaves all over the trees, so I need to get moving on this to catch the part of spring I am thinking about.
This looks like a single band of satellite imagery, or a winter scene.
I realized when I was changing platforms that I had a lot of work completed. One of the things I am particularly pleased with is the set of four seasons at the edge of a classic New England pond.
and in winter: