I went painting as usual this morning. I parked by the same field I painted a few evenings ago, but this morning the clouds had sunk down in the river next to the field, and the hills and fields were drenched in fog.
I figured this was a great way to get in touch with my inner Monet, working fast to beat the sunlight. I focused on puddles on the paper and looking for the few sharp shapes and the music playing on the iPod became soft white noise. The sun was coming up fast. Ella Fitzgerald wrapped up ‘Lovin’ that Man’, and I happened to look up and toward the river just as Pavarotti began Bizet’s requiem and the clouds began moving from the field and river up to the sky. I tried snapping a picture and/or video and then realized all I could do was just experience this heavenly moment.
It’s something that happens almost every cool morning along the Battenkill in Vermont, as it does along most rivers around the world. I see it as I drive people to school, but today was the first time I really saw it. I’ll be back tomorrow, ready to really see it and wondering if Monet was getting in touch with the same thing all those years ago when he painted the same lily pond over and over again.