It was 85 degrees, with gusty winds that wanted to rip my shade umbrella into the next county! But I was hell-bent on painting this view of an old farmhouse on Rusty Hart’s land. Oh — and the smell! I forgot the smell. It was next to the sheep barn. Lovely. One of those “suffering-for-art” type of days. Sweaty and stinky. What enchanted me about this place were the gigantic walnut trees, swirling and gnarled in the most magnificent fashion. Rusty’s whole property is a kind of fantasy-land, filled with about a dozen varieties of mint, all kinds of unusual herbs and wildflowers, perfumed by a bounty of lilacs, daffodils, honeysuckle and whatever you could imagine. Truly a place to revisit!