SPOONDRIFT – (n), a showery sprinkling of sea-water or fine spray swept from the tops of the waves. (Origin: Old English).
Snowdrifts I know very well, and there have been many of those around our driveway in the last month or so.
Snowdrift, (n). a deep bank of fine, powdery snow (much like that sea spray) heaped up in one spot by the wind, with underlying possible crusts of ice and frozen dirty slush. Might look pretty on the surface, but is a bugger to get rid of as the wind keeps whipping snowflakes in all directions (more sea spray...ok, I know it's a bit of a stretch but please humour me!). Snowdrifts are the cause of much discussion after a particularly nasty winter storm as Canadians outdo each other in claiming to have the deepest snowdrifts in their backyards or driveways.
Can you tell that winter has set in for good in Ottawa, and in central/eastern Canada?
I need to feel a spoondrift, and soon!
Spoondrift is a new word I must try next time I visit the Caribbean.
"Did you feel the spoondrift against your face on that last wave?"
"That spoondrift should be bottled and brought back home for my parched, wintry skin."
"Leave your sunglasses with me. There is too much spoondrift today in the sea."
As I painted the seascape in the weeks leading up to Christmas, my mind was at the beach while the snowsdrifts deepened and the snowblower was put to good use.
(Serenity Beach, acrylic on 24 x48 stretched canvas. The painting is hanging on the wall in its new home.)
Here is hubby holding the painting on a blustery day recently. I was trying to take a photo before the painting left for good with its new owner.
The day was too dark to get a good shot not to mention all the snowflakes swirling around.
As you can tell, I do not have the special lighting and photographic gadgets to shoot my art work nor do I have a special easel for large works of art. Hubby becomes a substitute easel in such circumstances.
Below, the next day was sunny and I managed to take the photos I needed.
As I write this in the first few days of 2017, I know that I only need to paint a summery beach scene to escape the snow piling up in soft mounds around the house.
What forms of escapism help you deal with a long, cold winter?