While in France we were lucky enough to stay in a house of a friend, rather than a hotel. The house was built in the 1800s, I think, and was originally a mill. After the bustle of London and Paris, a house with ample couches and two cats was a welcome change – especially for a homebody and an animal lover, like myself. It also came equipped with a breathtaking backyard and it’s own babbling brook and resident ducks. With a little more time on my hands, I finally broke out my real paints and did some studies of the yard and house. Between the character of the building and the lushness of the plant life it was hard to narrow down what to paint – there were so many textures and colors and little quaint details lying around that just begged to be recorded.