It always impresses me how bright the colour green is after snow. We’ve only had a week of snow cover, a fraction of the successive months I used to undergo in Quebec, yet as the grass reveals itself again it appears supernaturally viridian. The dullness of the day enhances the effect, the persistent rain and low grey cloud allowing the hues of the ground to come into their own, glowing with an inner luminance and seeming to rise out of the earth towards us.
I’ve loved having the snow. I’ve loved the simplicity and purity of the visual landscape and skyscape, the soft white carpet and laden charcoal-grey clouds completing each other in a quiet monochromatism. In Quebec, the snow stayed for so long that by February I would be longing for greenness, like a physical thirst. I don’t feel that now. Indeed, our snow spell has been all too brief. But something in me does feel relieved and enlivened—satiated—by the visible verdancy, the lurid green allure.
Lochinver, Assynt, Scotland
11th January 2026