Margaret, with her cheerfulness, her strong momentum, her endless love of colleagues and the landscape, appeared in the “sky” of Hortobágy like a shining comet.
She was driven by an internal fire, the fire of passing she was familiar with. She wanted to paint something very beautiful from the great “watery” wilderness. She promised that next year she would paint a “winter mirage” instead of horses standing in the water. The dancer’s temperament she had was more South American than English. She received with both hands for all the beauties of life, and, like a kind fairy, divided it among us.
She was very rare to frown, seen only by a few, when her always sparkling eyes became sad, and the pain and fear of passing out sat on her face.
“The most beautiful memory of my life is the love of Hortobágy and my colleagues. In my mind, we are together a lot,” she wrote in one of her letters.
She fought confidently with superhuman strength, but on December 18, 1999, she finally surrendered. On the 24th she was laid to rest in his hometown of Folkeston.
The snow has already covered the grave, and her footprints in Hortobágy, but her paintings remain, just like her kind being, in our hearts.
You’ll live on in our memories. Rest in peace.