I think this landscape a charming one, perhaps because the parts are more fathomable than formidable. The golden incline in the foreground is not a dangerous pitch. The blue lake I could imagine swimming across without wings. The mountains are not so big either. A few trees hold to the top and there seem to be ways to make it up there without too much worry. Without Horacian clouds the blue sky is antiphonal to the golden slope with bushes that may be drying racks for formal red handkerchiefs. Click the scene if you want to questions it. A charming out-of-the-way place for Horace or anyone in 1945, our circa date. But how will we find it? Our touring fire insurance adjuster leaves no instructions.