A quiet autumn evening settles over a low meadow. Tall, slender birch trees with rust and amber leaves stand in two loose groups, leaving a pale gold glow at the horizon between them, while a thin stream catches the last light across the muted green and heather-brown grass.

The sky is a dusty sage-blue, with a few faint streaks of golden cloud and a small pale moon hanging above a misty tree line. Soft, loosely dabbed brushwork and a fine web of craquelure across the sky give it the hushed, aged feel of an antique canvas.