Monet in the North Woods

Not looking for clarity or definition or perfect ambient light, but something softer, more nebulous and serene...

I craved this Monet moment in the north woods: the flowing shapes, untroubled waters and gentle reflections of an early June evening—I craved stillness and a quiet interval spent sitting by the beaver pond.

There were no little green frogs or snakes resting on the lily pads this past weekend, but there was a chorus of horn throated bullfrogs somewhere in the tall reeds, and they were engaged in a resonant (and at times spirited) descant, sounding for all the world like a choir of chanting Tibetan monks.