I had been painting the wintry landscape of the water meadows – a layer of thin snow masking the earthy colours underneath, the stark verticals of leafless trees and tawny areas of scrub and hedge which the snow hadn’t covered – the sky heavy and purple sometimes, almost becoming indistinguishable from another snow laden field. Suddenly I heard a low bleat, and saw two sheep watching me with interest, totally at home, and looking warm, in what , for me, had become an almost alien landscape.