Farmers are funny about weeds in pastures, particularly with the old style of raising grazing animals where they are simply let out in a giant hillside. So what is left, after the cows have their way with it, are thistles, brambles of raspberry and wild rose bushes. I love the look of it, with the grass, resembling a close knit cloth stretched over the bony landscape of shale and granite. The painting was done in early morning light with the mist still very much resting on the distant hills and dew on the pasture grasses reflecting the early morning silver light. The farmer wasn’t happy with my painting of his brambles. I assured him they were beautiful, but the next time I passed by they were cut down!