A tree with snakes as roots and braided bodies as the trunk, and leafy, flowering, unfurling tail branches above flashed right out at me. So I grabbed the little sketchbook I kept out where I paint. For some reason, I've been miserly about what I put in this little book. The earliest entries are ten years old. I left the greenhouse, between the rows of corn, now waist high.
Corn is a tool, but that's another story.
Of course, the next thing to do was to run in the house and grab my QuickTake, run back out, hold the notebook in one hand against the rosebush, and look through the viewfinder from as far away as I can get without wrenching my back. So this darn thing isn't even pigment yet. I barely got finished sketching it before I was tweaking pixels. It was a hot day. For a long time, I sat on the lawn and tweaked.