Now I’m Seeing Like A Painter

I like to think that I’m noticing the world around me more now that I live in the country. I notice the different locations on the horizon where the sun rises and sets in the different seasons, mostly because I can see the horizons. I can see the topography of the land quite a bit more now that I can see for miles and to larger hills over the tops of smaller hills. Of course, this doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ve gotten to be more observant, but that I’m noticing different things now. Maybe in the city, I looked at architecture and at the people moving about.

At any rate, one of the things that has struck me recently is the windbreak at the southwest corner of my property. It looks very different in the morning light than in the afternoon light. I think I’m beginning to see it like a painter would.

Early in the morning, the light from the east slants in so that you can see the individual limbs of the trees beneath the canopy of leaves:

The windbreak at Nogglestead early in the morning.

I see the windbreak in the morning because I have small children, and I have slept as late as eight in the morning only five or six times in the last six years.

But note the color difference and the individual limbs and branches you can see. The light is so much more orange in the morning.

When the sun gets higher, the leaves become more green and the individual limbs are lost to shadow:

The windbreak at Nogglestead early in the morning.

With the shadows beneath it, it becomes a more substantial wall. The other colors are more grey and dusty looking under the direct sunlight.

Maybe I’m just getting older, but I’m taking time to notice these things these days.