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It's cold outside, pretty much everywhere it seems, unless, of course, you're reading this on the beach in St Croix or Mustique.Lately, late at night, taking Baci the Corgi out for the last time before bed...an owl hoots from deep inside a frosty wood. I get shivers, not from the cold, but from listening to the haunting call. Suddenly I am transported to a much older time, to the days of Grimm's fairy-tales, the version of my childhood illustrated by Howard Pyle...where deep dark Wintry Woods stretched for miles, dotted by little lamplit cottages, and full of wolves and badgers and owls.
I feel like we should leave a trail of breadcrumbs,
Inside, on my drawing board, I've been working on this painting. Maybe, just maybe, this is what has been going on in the Owl's Wood down the road.
I love it when life is like a picture book!
