I've invented this trick for expressing more subtle character in my paintings, I call it "clothes"

They both like getting rained on. One of those little things mother and daughter are delighted to find they have in common.

But they stay under the tree to protect the book so they can keep reading, by the glowing leaves.

It's a long story, left unfinished when Jessie drifts off, almost folded over herself. Jenny smiles and wonders how anyone could sleep in such an awkward position, knowing she would do the same if her spine allowed it.

She puts the book away and slides down in the moss, happy, at ease, ready to join her daughter in dreams.

Jessie's hair plays lazily with Jenny's hand, still.