There’s a frost in the air. Against the black of the midnight sky, snowflakes begin to fall.
Deep in the woods, a badger emerges from his sett, dug deep into the roots of the old, gnarled trees. He pauses . . . the snowflakes tumble . . . he senses the cold, the frost, the sharpness of the stars.
Winter is come.
A post published earlier this year explains how a simple black and white lino cut is made.