Dashing Through the Snow...

My mom was a talented artist. When she was about fifteen years old, she was awarded a scholarship to the prestigious St. Martin’s School of Art in London, England. Sadly, when German bombs began to fall during what became known as “the Blitz” in 1940, the school relocated out of the city and my mother had to withdraw, eventually serving in the Royal Air Force.

Although her formal training had come to an end, my mom still enjoyed doing little drawings and even created beautiful Christmas cards—one of which she sent to an American GI, her future husband and my dad, whom she had met shortly before he left England to return home after the war.

Years later, when I was very young, my mom, who had immigrated to the United States in January 1948, held art classes in our home in suburban northern New Jersey. Her students were a small group of local ladies who, in addition to a common interest in art, loved my mom with her beautiful English accent and, of course, her tea. Most, if not all of those students remained very close friends with my mom long after she put down her paintbrushes and pastels and went to work as a secretary to help save for my brother’s and my college expenses.

As I think back to the days when my mom was painting, I can still recall the smell of oil paints and the solvents she used in her craft. I can picture the easel set up in our dining room—a room she loved for its natural lighting—holding an in-progress creation born of both her wonderful imagination and her artistic skill.

Of the many oil and pastel creations that rested on that easel, one has always stood out from the others and remains today the most cherished in our family. It is an oil painting of a winter scene: a horse-drawn sleigh gliding along a snow-covered road in a rural setting dotted with a few country houses and a barn. Inside the sleigh, a mom, dad, and little boy sit bundled up, their scarves blowing in the bitter wind as the proud brown horse trots effortlessly toward a destination that can only be imagined by those admiring the scene. From the painting, one can sense feelings of both peace and determination.

Years after my mom gave up painting, we still enjoyed many of her works, which hung throughout our home. However, the horse-drawn sleigh always stood out to me, as it did to many friends and family, so it ended up in a prominent place above our living room fireplace. It was the perfect snow scene during the winter months and provided a psychological cooling effect in the summer months when my dad—who tended to be very economical—insisted that our attic fan was sufficient instead of the air conditioner, even on the hottest days.

One Sunday, when I was about fifteen, my Grandma Gardner, who was in her late seventies, pointed to the painting above the fireplace and told me she loved it because it brought back special memories of when she was a little girl in Scranton, Pennsylvania at the turn of the century. She remembered her mom and dad bundling her and her siblings up in blankets and driving to church on Christmas in a horse-drawn sleigh.

Grandma’s story has stayed with me for over fifty years now. Because of it, I have been able to imagine that the wind-blown family in my mom’s painting was, like my grandma and her family back in 1900, traveling to church on Christmas Day to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

My mom’s cherished artwork now hangs on the wall in our dining room, where we share meals with family and friends on holidays and throughout the year. All five of our grandchildren know that their great-grandma Pam painted it, and as babies they loved pointing to the horse as I taught them the “clip-clop” sound it would have made. Copies of the painting also hang on the walls in the homes of our three daughters, who admire its simplicity, the warmth it brings to their hearts and the love they felt for their Grandma Pam.

As we busy ourselves preparing for Christmas and the birth of our sixth grandchild, I know we will all pause at some point during the season to remember my mom, her art

and the beautiful stories that emerge in our imaginations as we reflect upon the happy travelers in that one-horse open sleigh.

Merry Christmas.

Pam's original painting

Pam's paintbrushes & tools

Close-up of horse & sleigh