It could be 6 o’clock early March or 9 o’clock in July.
Eileen Hennemann
It’s when the light from the sky puts on a show of pinks and yellows, purples and corals, phthalo blue and golds. You can define twilight simply as the time of day between daylight and darkness, or darkness and daylight. It is this light I get lost in and it comes and goes too quickly.
At the end of a winter day edges are soft and distance doesn’t matter. Buildings and trees melt into the ground and glow as they slowly disappear. In the morning distant cattle and fences surprise you as they appear where moments before they were invisible.
At the end of the day we go for walks or drives to find scenes to paint. But to paint these colours seems impossible, and most certainly they are. How can one capture those fleeting moments of changing light?
The air changes from cold to colder as the sun dips away. We’ve got to get home. There waits the light and warmth. And there, early the next day, we’ll be waiting to see the morning twilight kiss a new day.
If one is lucky enough to have a lifetime of twilight memories, then that seems enough. Actually, to me, sometimes it feels like everything.