The January mornings are grey here.
We use the SAD lamp, we light up the room with candles and old music. Sympathetic magic, let the spring come.
Linus reminds me that above the clouds the sun is shining, they are flying in gold up there.
I used to feel the weight of the clouds pressing down on me when we lived in Hampshire, in my memory it was wintery and grey so often. But then in Berkshire I remember waking at with dawn the light pouring in through the long white linen curtains. I used to go out and lie on the decking. We had no chairs so we’d drag our quilt out and I’d sunbathe amongst all the flowers I’d planted.
I loved staying out ’till dusk amongst the night scented stocks, when their scent swirled around me and I drank it in right until the last moment when L came to carry me in to bed.
It was heavy clay that soil, but I grew cornflowers and freesias and cried because there were no birds living there, not since the new houses were built on the wood. Isn’t it funny how light colours our memories? I have over-exposed summer time reminisces and days when it seemed summer all the hours.
My childhood bedroom had two walls that were basically huge windows. One faced our garden and one faced over the woods and hills. The only house you could see was a little white cottage tucked in the crook of the mountain. I had buttercup painted walls. Sweet peas on the curtains which stayed open as I woke to sunrise over the trees and read until the light painted the sky magenta, scarlet, cadmium golden reflecting, dancing over my walls and bed and hair. I hung crystals in the windows so I could watch the rainbows soaring and tinkling over the room as the light hit them. You must make a wish when you see a rainbow, and if it’s a double rainbow it’s extra powerful.
I took this photograph on a trip to London. Can you imagine having this as one’s studio? Imagine the clear north light through high windows. Such bliss.
Playing with light and dark, wondering over how the light hits memories….
Where is your light today?