I let the dogs out this morning around 7:00 a.m. The sun was breaking through a thick haze and created a strang light. The sky was a deep gray at the horizon, almost stormy looking. The haze was so thick you could not see the sun, even when looking directly at it. But, it was there, burning behind the haze and turning the gray a brilliant yellow. John Carlson says on an overcast day, the moisture in the air holds the light and keeps it from reaching the ground. So, on an overcast day the the sky is brighter than the earth. And it was. I could only glance at the yellow gray light and look away. Too bright. But right next to this, the gray haze turned to blue sky and a white cloud. Next to each other, at the same time. The sun was rising quickly and before I could sketch or take notes, it was gone.
That's it. In a nutshell. All wrapped up. Nothing else to say. The frustration of wanting to paint the light. The color of the light. It is transitory and ephemeral. I want to capture it and before I can even begin, it's gone.
I looked down and Teddy was staring right into the light. His eyes squinted down to knife-cut slits. He was still. Was he looking at the unusual sky or the bird on the fence. Usually, he would bark.
