At one point it does pass a small lake. The famed Toad Lake, I assume. I rolled the window down and listened. Hmmm... no toads were calling. Wrong season anyway. None were trying to mate at the moment. Come back in the spring when the road's a quagmire and hear the frenzy.
There was a really cool, old, gnarly maple tree along the roadside. There are LOTS of old, gnarly maples up here to chose from. Some are right on my property. But somehow the excitement (and suffering) of exploring the hinterlands give certain gnarly trees more of an appealing aura than others.
I loved how the branches snaked out. And the golden leaves, some brushed with shades of red, some still green, shot through with bright sky holes! It's tough to paint. I'll probably try doing another version of this, using this field study as a reference. What I'd change is the value of the leaves in relation to the value of the sky holes. I'd make the leaves a shade darker and give the sky holes a bit more of a design, a pattern. It's sometimes kind of difficult to consider all these aspects when out painting in the field. The light changes so fast. The wind is blowing. Insects are biting. Branches are moving and leaves are falling. Clouds move in; clouds move away. No wonder Van Gogh went mad!