The long, moss-covered arms of wide conifers were hanging just above my canvas and all around their trunks on the ground as the storm came and a oppressive downpour started. I was waiting for a fog tangled in their branches. It really came - BUT at a moment when I couldn't even stand staight in the pressure of the rain, not even talking about painting during it.
Eventually, I poured out two deep pools of water from the canvas as I had to put it down on ground for a second to pack the most important things and run for a hide. But the rain stopped as quickly as it started. All the water-soaked brushes gave me a signal that I was finished for the day.
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