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The river bends through the landscape; it too is blue, reflecting the sky. Looking down it is deep brown. It runs at different speeds - slow near the left bank - fast and turbulent through the arches to the right. It carries the pressure of all those miles of gathering energy from its beginnings in the mountains. Cross winds send eddies over the surface - a counterpoint of patterns In contrast, the slopes down to the water seem still. They were shaped by water and ice thousands of years ago, but my drawing hand traces their embedded rhythm onto the page. A cloud shadow rides these contours and disappears. A heron stands motionless in the shallows, saving energy for that sudden fish-snatching stab. Trees sway in the wind. They are growing imperceptively. Only a small boat house on the bank has no movement at all”