By C. F. Lawrenson
In the winter of 1981, I was exploring the same mountain where the painting Maple Ridge came from. I walked farther west, and then descended down the north side to some river flat land that was owned by friends of mine. I ran across this old rusty milk can frozen in what looked like a drainage ditch next to a fence line. Over the previous decade or so, farmers and the milk industry had changed over to bulk tanks, causing milk cans like this one to become relics of the past.