This is my treasure, an old (like 50+ years, my Dad remembers it in his house growing up), worn, print on canvas. My grandmother hung this above her fireplace in her home. I would stare at it when I was little and sleeping over for a treat at her house. Me lying on the floor on an old army sleeping bag open-faced, posing as a mattress, soft quilts piled on keeping me warm. The glow of a nightlight giving the snow in this painting just a glimmer of light.
I have studied and stared longingly at this painting, in the daylight, moonlight, first light of the sun. The most intriguing thing about this painting, if I have to name one, is the light, it always shifts as if it is real. It doesn’t take much dreaming for me to place myself walking up the barely plowed road, ready for a warm cup of whatever is on the wood stove. Hearing the nothing, the brilliant quiet, in the woods and feeling satisfied and happy this is where I call home.
When my grandmother died almost 20 years ago, we went through her things kindly and those things that we loved, we brought home with the warm intention of using them as she would. I actually looked around for this painting, I couldn’t find it and figured it was already taken. But, after some time since her passing, I was looking in our garage for something necessary to the moment and found this painting turned backwards in a corner. I cried at my good fortune, I knew if I asked my parents they would be more than willing to give me this painting. They didn’t even hesitate.
I brought it back to my college apartment, I put it up in my room immediately and went back to staring at it as when I was a little girl, when I woke up and fell asleep, magic. It has hung somewhere, always a wall that I pass often or sleep near, of each home since, I think I have lived in at least 10 places since then. I knew my husband was a keeper (well I knew that before) but it was a great treat to hear him wonder about this painting the minute he saw it. So, it is special for both of us, we wonder together. And the craziest part, I don’t know the story behind it. I was so little, I didn’t think to ask, but if I think hard about my grandmother I know that she loved winter, she loved cozy places and I know this painting meant something to her, to hang in the heart of her home and I will always treasure it.
This post is part of the weekly photo challenge. You can find many more treasures here.