This is the last painting that I did in Maine, and I think it’s my favorite. It was a sunny afternoon in a clearing, near a fox den, and the woods were just so complicated—dark in some parts, glowing in others. Unfortunately, shortly into the process the painting was Not Going Well, and I was getting grumpy. Plus I was tired, hot, and stinky. (Sorry, foxes.) Things continued this way for a while, when all of a sudden something clicked, and the painting came together, and the breeze blew, and all was right with the world. This doesn’t always happen when a painting is going badly, but when it does, it feels like magic.