My in-laws live in rural Missouri. Their home is located outside of a small town not too far from the Mississipi River about 1.5 h south of St. Louis. We typically go out for Thanksgiving, but every once in a while we make it out at other times of year. They got to name their gravel lane when 911 became available (Walker Lane, thank you), and the property is flanked by fields. The first time I visited, long ago, was the first time I'd ever heard cows low at night, which is a scary sound for a suburban girl. The lane is lined with old orchards, old and young trees, and lately, marching towards the family property--town.
I don't look back at the reference photo after I start to lay out the painting, it's partly based on the lane, which has been symbolic of a visit to my in-laws for as long as I can remember.
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