Looking at my paintings always takes me back to the moment when I photographed the scene that inspired the painting. I always tell people that one of the special aspects of producing my art is the fact that while doing the painting, I get to re-visit that spot as I remember it -- to remember the specific canoe trip, the specific time of day, and maybe even specific sensory experiences like the warmth of the sun, the chill of the mist, the smell of pine needles underfoot, or the plaintive call of a nearby Hermit Thrush.

With 'Return to the Crow River', I get to recall that perfect July morning. We were camped at a great site on Little Crow Lake, overlooking a small island that was home to a nesting pair of Loons. As was our habit, we were in the canoe before sunrise, paddling back toward Proulx Lake through the meandering, mist-shrouded tamarack bog that constitutes the Crow River along there. The heavy dew turned spider webs into diamond necklaces. The mist was so thick in one place that we could actually see a small rainbow suspended over the cattails. Swamp Sparrows, Yellow-throat Warblers and Olive-sided Flycatchers were most noticeable among the chorus of birds that serenaded us.