Twilights and Meadows

I’ve been obsessing about sunsets lately, especially through my recent projects, but I’m equally enamored with the sunrise. Although I may not always directly witness the sun rising, my bedroom, which faces east, offers spectacular, unobstructed views of the morning twilight emerging from behind the meadow behind our house. It greets me every morning through the room’s large window walls and is a gift to behold and wake up to. It fills me with hope for a promising, new day, reminding me that no matter how difficult the previous day had been, I can always begin anew.

As the darkness of the night slowly surrenders to the light of the new day, the meadow, with its rolling hills nestled under the day’s bright, blue sky, is revealed in full view. As I go about my daily routines, I am offered this view all day through the large windows in my art studio and kitchen. It fills me with so much joy, and whenever I soak in its quiet, untamed beauty, I find solace in its stillness and a sense of adventure in its ruggedness.

Later in the day, the cows start to come out, and the sight of these cows and the sounds they make always put a smile on my face. I get excited whenever I would be deep at work in my studio and all of a sudden I would hear mooing and twigs crackling which signal that the cows are out on the hill grazing. (It’s amazing to me how loud the crackling of the twigs can be as the cows move about!) I would then pause what I’m doing and look out the window or go out in the backyard to watch them for a bit. I feel a sense of calm and satisfaction watching them graze. (Does anyone know why that is?) Sometimes I think they are near enough to sense or see me watching them, and they stare back. (That cow on the left is definitely looking back.)

Then as the day ends to give way to the night, the sky is again awashed with the soft hues of twilight as the light, in its turn, gladly gradually succumbs to the darkness, but not without a promise that it will return in the morning.