Douglas had arrived in Whitby about two days previously.  His home in Scotland was in good hands with the butler and housekeeper, and he had needed a change.  He had almost gone to London to see some of the museums, but on the train, to the city, he had overheard someone in the dining car talking about some of the lovely areas around Whitby.  Being not having rocked down scheduled meetings or commissions in London, Douglas had gotten off the next station and made arrangements to go to the smaller town.

He had rented a carriage and as he had passed through the landscape, he was glad he had made the spontaneous change in locations.  The area was lovely indeed.  His fingers were itching to put the visions on canvas.  First though, he had arranged for a place to stay in a local hotel and set up for his trunks that had been sent ahead to London be brought to Whitby.

Now, he was finally able to get out and find a location to start enjoying himself.  He wore a deep blue pair of slacks, a white shirt, and a matching jacket.  He was not concerned about what he wore, he was more interested in getting out to paint.  The abbey he had seen from in town had gotten his main focus.  Packing up a couple of canvases, his painting kit, and a backpack with some food and water, he had headed out there.  It had taken him a bit of time walking around the abbey to figure out what view he wanted to capture first.  Then the full view overlooking the ruins with the field before it and the sky beyond not seeing the town below, just the abbey this time.

Setting up his kit, with the canvas on the easel there waiting to share the view with the world.   Tossing his jacket off over his backpack, he rolled his sleeves back and opened his kit.  He pulled out his pallet and started mixing the paints to create the tones he would be using.  His eyes going before him at the view often and then adjusting the shades he was creating until it was just where he wanted it to look.  Finally, he began.  The field and the sky creating the setting for the treasure the ruins had become.  He was focused on the way the light fell across the grasses and how the wind did its own painting of the scene.