The small river emerged from dark woodland and spread in shallow ripples over the road. I drew in the rain, drops splashing onto the page, spreading the ink and disabling my pens, catching the colour from the conte crayons and smearing it in dark-toned puddles.
The image in my mind was darker, with the mid ground trees gleamed faintly green against the deepening evening shadows. The dried remains of that years reeds glowed yellow-brown above the reflected tones in the water.
On and off, through the evening, I revisited this sketch, scoring into the surface with a knife, scraping back tone with sandpaper and hard eraser, reapplying tone with charcoal and watercolour.