The evening is warm and we are plein air painting in a small group at a fellow artist’s home. Standing on the steep bank with my brush in hand, I can hear the contented chatter of those around me between the rumble of the ferries that were making their way back and forth through Active Pass. Except when their whistles sounded. Then this seemed to take over all that was present. Well, maybe not the red chairs…. or the trees winging out over the bluff waving to the sea. It is a good evening to be painting and to be with friends.