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Behind the Painting
“Not much snow on the mountain for this time of year,” a local told me on the lift. “You can already see the ground in places and it’s not even April.”
But there was still enough snow cover to paint the long shadows of aspens, and tomorrow they’re calling for 8 to 10 more inches.
I stood outside the cabin, water dripping off the roof, sun falling over the ridge.
Inside, St. Patrick’s Day dinner was cooking, mashed potatoes and beef stew. I heard footsteps of kids running on the deck above me, looking for “The Monster.”
In the snow, footprints led somewhere in tbe trees, maybe a snow fort carved into the side of an embankment, maybe just a natural formation in a melting drift.
I don’t know if I’ve ever painted aspens before. I’ll tell you it’s harder than it looks, thin, straight trunks almost iridescent in the sun, bark dotted with dark black marks.
