At the end of a fun day hiking and fishing I amble quietly along the river’s edge.  Pete is fishing downstream with a fly similar to whatever is hovering above the water. The rhythmic casting movement is calming in the fading light.  I move upstream picking my way through a fisherman’s path around rocks and through scrub willow and a few trees.  The light is almost gone now, and the moon is rising up ahead over the mountain as I press on. A small flat meadow between the river and a sprawling beaver pond welcomes my arrival. I set up my easel next to a rounded rock and try to record everything, the view, the smell and the sounds of the river in semi darkness.