There is a particularly wonderful beaver pond down in Putney. I suppose the town water department doesn't think of it as a beaver pond, but the beavers certainly do. This work is primarily based on a couple of field sketches and a small painting done there on site, but also on a fondly-remembered pond of my childhood in Weathersfield, where me and my dog Moxie would often crash through the ice in March, attempting to gather pussy willows. Good times.