A single small witch in a tall pointed hat and long black cloak walks away from the viewer along a grassy path, a broom in hand. Gnarled apple trees heavy with ripe red-orange fruit line both sides, with fallen leaves and apples scattered in the dried golden grass.

Morning fog thickens toward a soft, undefined vanishing point, bleaching the far trees and a single dark conifer silhouette. The light is flat and overcast with no cast shadows, and loose oil brushwork turns thicker and more textured in the foliage and grass, smoother in the hazy sky.