Medium: Watercolor on cold press 140 lb paper. 10X14 inches.
"In the days long ago, when the world was still covered in snow and ice and the forests were silent, Winter walked with her three daughters.
The youngest was tiny Spring. She was shy, but the feathers covering her from beak to tail were so very lovely. They were tinted with soft pinks, blues, greens, and yellows. Unlike her two sisters, she was content to merely sit perched on her Mother's arm.
The middle sister was bright Summer. Bold, energetic, and passionate, Summer loved to fly from tree to tree, singing and calling to Mother and her two sisters. Her feathers were vibrantly green and yellow. Even when silent, she could be seen from anywhere in the white forest.
The oldest sister was regal Autumn. Her plumes were every color of fire, like that of the dying sun in the evening. Like her sister Spring, she was quiet, but like Summer, passionate and powerful.
One morning, as Winter walked through the trees, she looked up and noticed how dull the rest of the world was compared to her and her daughters.
"Spring, Summer, Autumn," she smiled, "my beloved daughters. Make the world beautiful. Share your beauty with the rest of the forest."
And because they loved their Mother so much, and knew she loved them as well, they flew away to fulfill her wishes.
The first to go was gentle Spring. With her tiny green feathers, she fashioned small buds for the very tips of the branches. With her pink, blue, and yellow plumes, she made beautiful flowers - blossoms that had a beautiful scent, like that of Mother. When she was done, all her trees were covered in tiny buds and leaves, and soft blossoms.
The second to go was bold Summer. Being larger than Spring, she was able to put more feathers of a larger size on the trees. Her trees were bright and green, full and lush with her color. When she was done, one could barely see the branches with the amount of green that now covered them.
The last to go was elegant Autumn. Being the oldest, she took her time, placing feathers in just the right places to make her trees brilliant and bright. When she was done, it looked as if every one of her trees were on fire, bursting with golds, reds, and oranges.
Winter stood and looked around at the new forest, and was proud of her children. But soon, she heard their calls.
"Mother! We are cold!"
Sharing their beauty with the forest had left the three sisters bare of their warm feathers, and now they stood, shivering, in their trees. Winter knew she had to do something, else her beautiful daughters might die of cold. As much as she loved the snow and ice, she knew that for her daughters, she had to warm the world.
For Spring's forest, she blew a gentle, warm breeze that melted some of the snow, and made it warm enough for the small creature. For Summer's forest, she withdrew all the snow and ice, for Summer had given so many of her feathers, she needed all the warmth she could get. And for Autumn, she gave warmth with a hint of cold, for beyond Autumn's forest was where Winter would stay, for she, unlike her daughters, needed the cold to survive."
"But grandmother, what happened to Winter's daughters? Did they ever grow their feathers back?"
"Oh no, dear child - their feathers will never grow back. But Winter is a kind Mother, and gave each daughter the body of a fair woman, each with their long tail plumes remaining on their heads. Her daughters had daughters of their own, and those feathered ones are the People of the Trees."
"Have you ever seen any of them?"
"Perhaps, child...perhaps long ago. But it is late, and it is time for sleep."
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