This is an old home site that I pass quite often and watch the trees and fields behind it in the different light of the day, times of the year, and weather than blows through. I've drawn it many times in the early morning but this was a late afternoon storm that I watched coming in and when I got to this spot it just all came together. The blowing grass and trees, the darkness in the background with light in the foreground, and the little well house in the middle. It's fnny how much times it takes me to capture such a specific kind of moment like I saw, but that seems to be the real function of painting to me. Hours, days, and weeks of studio time fiddling with the light and color and composition on a bit of canvas or board with paints, brushes, and palette knives to conjur this idea of the moment frozen in memory.