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Saturday, January 28, 2006
Soft Day, Thank God
Of course it would happen just after I whine about cloudless blues skies, but fair is fair - today was the most magnificent of vibrantly grey days.
Much more than the distracting sticky heat of summer's dog days, or the bold light of crisp autumn, or the days of snowy prettiness, the days like today - which occur all too rarely in the west of the midwest - are much more tangible in their beauty. There is no weather that makes me more want to paint than the thousand greys of a soft wet day.
This is not mere misplaced nostalgia by an emigrant for weather left behind, because I felt the same when I lived in such weather in Ireland. Slea Head, Binevenagh, and the Sally Gap are all much more colourful and dramatic on the edge of rain. And here in KC the grass and the bark of trees come alive, and the surfaces of asphalt and painted walls are animated by a million reflections of raindrops. This, is gorgeous.
Much more than the distracting sticky heat of summer's dog days, or the bold light of crisp autumn, or the days of snowy prettiness, the days like today - which occur all too rarely in the west of the midwest - are much more tangible in their beauty. There is no weather that makes me more want to paint than the thousand greys of a soft wet day.
This is not mere misplaced nostalgia by an emigrant for weather left behind, because I felt the same when I lived in such weather in Ireland. Slea Head, Binevenagh, and the Sally Gap are all much more colourful and dramatic on the edge of rain. And here in KC the grass and the bark of trees come alive, and the surfaces of asphalt and painted walls are animated by a million reflections of raindrops. This, is gorgeous.
And Here's The Stuff I Wrote Earlier: