Riding on the bike path and came across this scene, both beautiful and melancholy, with the bare ruin’d choirs of dead trees white in the late afternoon light surrounded by marsh grass and lily pads in the beaver pond. I only had one page left in my sketchbook, a failed and partially scrubbed out sketch of my trusty climbing structure, so I attempted take a page from James Gurney’s book, so to speak, and build the new picture on the ruins of the old. I managed to finagle most of the original elements into the new picture except for those lines in the sky.
