It had been an afternoon to remember, walking the gravel riverbed of the lazy stream that had been the mighty Merced River last Spring.  Now it was so shallow we could cross it without getting our feet wet in our hiking boots. 
Thinking I had my quota of images for a year’s worth of painting, we got in the car and followed the river out of the park.  Looking back for one last glance of Yosemite’s majesty, I was gripped by the long shadows across the stream and sand bar.  Inspiration for the deer and one last painting for me.