This morning as I stepped outside my door for a walk to the grocery store was one of those mornings.
It was 7:22 AM. The very air had taken on an orange-suffused glow. There were long strips of clouds the length of the sky, like plowed furrows in a field. Their salmon color was almost incandescent. I walked to the store in a state of wonder; feeling like the air itself had taken on a magical quality.
By the time I arrived, the clouds had shifted to yellow, then yellow-gray.
While walking to work about 15 minutes later, the clouds strips had morphed to a dull light grey that blended in with the sky. The moment was gone forever.
I didn’t try to get a picture of it. My camera phone would not have been able to capture the magic.
But yesterday, walking home from work, the golden light of the late afternoon sun lit up a row of old factory buildings, which the deep blue sky complemented. I did get a picture of that. It reminded me of the most basic inspiration for my art: the beauty in our aging cities.