The "two pictures" make a resonant diptych: Caspar David Friedrich's monk on the seashore, solitary self-communion as the storm threatens — dark bluey-black, latent turbulence, pain, anguish:  Breughel's harvesters communal, lusty, fecund, all glowing browns and yellow gold.  I'd intended to try now to work the South American impressions of 1981 into a concerto for orchestra. But it and they weren't ready and didn't come:  this symphonic poem, far better suited to the commission for Simon Rattle and the C.B.S.O., swept everything else aside.  It flowed forth with such natural ease that the only difficult part was finding the right title.