How to Draw a Snow- Fantasy Edition

I often find myself gazing up at the sky, lost in a sea of thoughts. It’s a habit I picked up early in life, and it reminds me of simpler times when I was just a little girl. Back then, I was about five or six years old. My mom was a dedicated lab technician working long hours at the hospital, and my dad, a college professor, spent several days each week teaching. This busy schedule meant that my brother and I were often cared for by various housekeepers who made sure we didn’t get into too much trouble—no fires or serious injuries, just the usual bumps and scrapes that come with being young.

In the evenings, when my parents had to go out, we had a babysitter named Marie. Marie lived in our neighborhood and was a bit different from the usual housekeepers. While they were mainly focused on keeping us safe and fed, Marie brought a special kind of warmth and creativity into our home. I think her name was Marie, though I was so young then that it’s hard to be certain. What I do remember clearly is how she had a knack for making ordinary moments feel special.

One of those special moments happened one evening when Marie decided we should draw together. I’m not sure if I had already taken an interest in drawing or if it was Marie’s idea, but it became one of my favorite memories. We spread out on the dining room carpet with a large pad of paper and my Crayola box of 64 vibrant crayons. I remember feeling a mix of excitement and hesitation. I wasn’t very keen on sharing my art supplies, which were my prized possessions at the time. But Marie’s gentle approach made it easier.

Marie suggested that we draw snow, which seemed like a simple task. She guided me through drawing a tree with horizontal branches, then instructed me to add a layer of white to represent snow. At first, I didn’t see what was so magical about it. The snow blended into the white of the paper, making it hard to distinguish. But Marie was very enthusiastic and eager to share her vision. She explained that snow, especially at dusk, has a special way of reflecting the colors of the sky.

She handed me a pale blue crayon and showed me how to draw a thin line above the white snow to capture that reflection. This addition of blue seemed so minor, yet it transformed the drawing in a way that felt almost magical. The subtle blue made the snow look like it had depth and texture, giving it a life of its own. This simple technique was a revelation for me. It was like discovering a secret way to make the ordinary extraordinary.

Marie’s lesson wasn’t just about drawing; it was about seeing the world in a new way. It taught me how a small detail can make a big difference and how important it is to capture and reflect the world around us. This lesson stuck with me and influenced not only my artistic taste but also my approach to life. It’s about looking beyond the surface and finding the beauty in subtle details.

The way Marie introduced this concept to me was inspiring. She didn’t just tell me how to draw; she shared her excitement and passion for seeing the world differently. This experience shaped my love for art and my belief in the importance of paying attention to the small things in life. It was a simple yet profound moment that has stayed with me all these years.

Whenever I look up at the sky now, I’m reminded of those early lessons. It’s a reminder of how important it is to appreciate the little things and to find beauty in the everyday. Whether I’m creating art or just reflecting on life, I carry with me the lesson that even the smallest touch can create something beautiful and meaningful.

Marie’s influence was subtle but powerful. She showed me that art is not just about what we create but also about how we perceive and interpret the world around us. It’s about finding beauty in the details and understanding that even the simplest additions can make a significant impact. This lesson has guided me throughout my life, shaping not only my artistic pursuits but also my approach to seeing and experiencing the world.

As I gaze up at the sky and let my thoughts drift, I’m grateful for those early moments of creativity and inspiration. They remind me of the joy of discovering new perspectives and the importance of reflecting on what we see. It’s a simple pleasure that continues to enrich my life, thanks to a kind babysitter and a lesson in drawing snow.