I painted this little plein air sketch by the creek that feeds Mason Lake. This is one of the sacred places in my life. We go camping there every year, since before I was born. The creek always changes as creeks are wont to do, and I've grown up and gotten a lot better at painting as artist girls are wont to do, but it's one of those things that retains its essence from year to year. Tradition or ritual don't quite have the precise connotations I'm searching for. It's a perpetual, superimposed snapshot from any year of my life, showing my mom and me sitting on a log on the pebbly creek bed with our watercolors and our sunscreen, dabbing away. And it made me who I am today.