Friday, October 11, 2013

The Artist...

Toward the eastern horizon and the back corner of the pond there is a V-shaped notch in the tree line. At dawn, as the sun climbs out of bed, it first peeks into our back yard through that slit. Most mornings the sky is clear, so the distribution of light is uniform as it first silhouettes the round edges of the deciduous trees and the steeple-like shapes of the Georgia pines. It's a wonderful welcome to another day.

Some days, though, in that same easterly direction, and above the wedge of ragged skyline there is a cloud covering as heavy as a carpet, or wispy like a horse's tail. Other times, it is like islands of white sand dotting a sea of blue. Fall has arrived, and with the cooler weather the advent of a new day causes light-gray patches of fog to rise and slowly drift across the surface of the pond.

Yesterday, just before daybreak, the Creator began blending His colors. Straight ahead of me was His canvas and easel. As the stars began to dim, and the day began to brighten, The Artist pulled shades of green from the trees, darkness from the night, soft reflections from the fading stars, growing light from the coming day, and mixed them on His palette. First He sketched the faint outlines of the clouds that would arrive with first light. For a moment He stood still, and then began to illuminate the backdrop. With the swirl of His brush, Islands of the whitest-white appeared before my very eyes. Perfect in composition, He dispersed them across an ocean of azure that grew deeper and deeper in hue. With gentle strokes He laid down tendrils of fog whose ghostly fingers captured shimmering rays of light and pulled them into its embrace. Suddenly, into the breach He splashed the golden sun that exploded and flashed through the funnel-shaped opening. For his finale, it seemed like The Artist tipped over His canvas--what He had created in the heavens, He brought down to earth.

And I got a picture...    

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