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Jul 27, 2012
Media: Oil canvas panel
Size: 6x6 in
"And when white moths were on the wing.
And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout." — William Butler Yeats, The Song of Wandering Aengus We did some more exploring yesterday around the Chama area, by late afternoon we ended up at this local fishing spot on the Rio Chama, downstream a few miles from our campsite. I loved painting this quiet scene from the bank above the river by a rickety old bridge. Tiny chipmunks scurried all around my easel munching on dry river grasses, deer grazed on the tender green grasses lining the banks, and a flock of geese soared in precise V-formation in the overcast sky. The only audible sound was the current of the river tripping over rocks in its course, which sounded like a symphony to me. Dave waded through the waters with line and hook for hours and never had a bite. I on the other hand caught a trout!
"And when white moths were on the wing.
And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout." — William Butler Yeats, The Song of Wandering Aengus We did some more exploring yesterday around the Chama area, by late afternoon we ended up at this local fishing spot on the Rio Chama, downstream a few miles from our campsite. I loved painting this quiet scene from the bank above the river by a rickety old bridge. Tiny chipmunks scurried all around my easel munching on dry river grasses, deer grazed on the tender green grasses lining the banks, and a flock of geese soared in precise V-formation in the overcast sky. The only audible sound was the current of the river tripping over rocks in its course, which sounded like a symphony to me. Dave waded through the waters with line and hook for hours and never had a bite. I on the other hand caught a trout! |