The painter
must be a close watcher of nature. From a very early age, I trained myself
to be alert to the treasures God places before our
wondering eyes. So, when a rare First Snow fell on the brilliant autumn
woods near my home town of Placerville, I was ready.
I still remember my tromp through the crunchy, new snow on a crisp
October morning. The air was radiant with the lights of two seasons– the
flaming golds and muted greens of the autumn woods, and the dazzling
white of a new winter snow that still clung in profusion to the
boughs.The rural lane, with its rustic rail fence, seemed to entice
me on a journey from fall to winter.
As I pass through the seasons of my own life, the great cyclical mystery
of God’s seasons deepens for me. I recognize, especially, that
the
gradual transition from one to another is filled with wonder.When,
as in First Snow, the dramatic change of season is the work of a single
night, the effect can be startling and thrilling.
I painted First Snow years ago, but beauty is the gift that goes on
giving.
The blessed morning God gave us all those years ago can still
bless your home with beauty today.
-Thomas Kinkade |
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