Occasionally I have left the intimacy of hill country for wider spaces and far off horizons. So I was working at Olana over several days in March, after a great winter storm. It was bitter at first and hands could hardly hold a brush. But after a single day’s exposure to such intense light the whole valley was trickling away its hold on the snow. The scent of cool earth was in the air and I had spring fever. Then came that familiar enchanted moment at dusk---a retracting click of the easel, with sparkling lights coming on up and down the river. Turning to go, it felt like so little was being left behind.