A Life of Winters.

I can never honestly pick my favourite season. There are so many differences — sometimes subtle — in the light, the smell, the hours of the day, and of course the temperature. But every change that happens, I love it. I get excited about the shifts.

My mum made a thing of seasons — she loved them too. As a young child, it gave her something for us to do on a Sunday. Spring, going to Regent’s Park to see the roses. Summer, trips to the beach. Autumn, kicking up piles of leaves on the Heath. Winter, heading to Primrose Hill to sleigh, or the canal to crack ice. These paintings were made with her, and our memories, in my mind.

Together they form a cycle, a reminder that every ending brings a beginning.