Sunday 1st December - Portrait of a Woman Holding Snowdrops

Well, Happy 1st December, Darlings!  For those of you who have been here a while, you will know that this heralds the start of Blogvent, a flimsy excuse for me to use the word 'muff' repeatedly in a legitimate context and complain about my inability to be effective with mistletoe.  It will also include 24 days of pictures about this snowy, present-y, Baby Jesus-y season....

Portrait of a Woman Holding Snowdrops (1905) Beryl Fowler

First picture is this little gem.  I do love a nice snowdrop.  I think there will probably be a few more before I'm done as I have been growing some in a pot for my Christmas miniature glasshouse.  This portrait is wonderfully powdery and pale, just right for the sort of light that's been streaming through my window over the last week.  I love Winter sun, it's so utterly welcome and cheerful, plus it makes the frost on the grass look like glitter.  The effect of the dusty light on this scene makes it seem like a whispered memory, that she exists as a remembrance as beautiful and fleeting as the little flower she holds.

My garden is a scene of spartan purity now that the cold weather has descended, all the shrubs cut back and no sign of colour. The joy of flowers that come from bulbs is that seem to defy the freeze, to offer the hope, the certainty that Spring will come again.  As we head towards the long dark night of the equinox, the promise that life will come again is needed more than ever.  Maybe the woman holding the flower is considering that she needs hope in her life, that she needs to believe that light and love will come back to the darkness of her pale, snowy life.  Those tiny flowers may seem a faint hope, but hope they remain.

See you tomorrow.