I have lately become totally infatuated with light, and conversely, with the absence of it. The sky can have a dozen personalities in one field of vision.
Turn your head and there's a dozen more. Driving at this time of year can be tricky - at 8 am the rising sun is right at eye level of most commuters driving east. As they drive home at 4, it's right there again, dancing on their tired retinas. If you can see, though, oh my! What a series of gorgeous pictures!
I wish I knew how to capture that light that illuminates a single white birch in a bush of green-black pines against a sky of blue-black clouds and a field of brown-black grass.
Shadows where they aren't expected make a tree and a barn look like
Ansel Adams found his colourbox. Lots of
Sabra Field potential here too. Worlds apart, and they both got it
. It's not just about where the light is, it's just as much about where the light
isn't.
I have lately become totally infatuated with light, and conversely, with the absence of it. The sky can have a dozen personalities in one field of vision. 
Turn your head and there's a dozen more. Driving at this time of year can be tricky - at 8 am the rising sun is right at eye level of most commuters driving east. As they drive home at 4, it's right there again, dancing on their tired retinas. If you can see, though, oh my! What a series of gorgeous pictures!
I wish I knew how to capture that light that illuminates a single white birch in a bush of green-black pines against a sky of blue-black clouds and a field of brown-black grass. 
Shadows where they aren't expected make a tree and a barn look like Ansel Adams found his colourbox. Lots of Sabra Field potential here too. Worlds apart, and they both got it. It's not just about where the light is, it's just as much about where the light isn't.
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