Winter Light

The gifts of illumination as we near the Winter Solstice

It starts in early autumn a heightened awareness of the way the sun sets behind my house, how the light filters through the trees. Even before the colors change, the many greens are illuminated in the afternoon sun. As we move toward autumn, a spectrum of colors glows in that sun, full and abundant, then slowly thinning out, as these same leaves fall to the forest floor. I miss this autumn glow.

Progression of light and color as leaves change and fall.

And yet, I welcome the new light show of sunset colors set against the bare branches of the trees.

It is in this season that I notice how the same light brings its magic into the house as the days shorten. A warm glow is cast on the walls, window decorations cast shadows; our dog follows the spot of light on the floor, seeking a nap in the warmth.

Light and shadow play on the walls. Light coming in through the window and cast on the opposite wall.

Java asleep in the sun with shadows and light cast from objects in the window.

This quality of light is unique to this season. It was more muted before, filtered through all the leaves. The angle is sharper in winter, the light more focused and direct. It’s time with us is shorter, making it that much more precious.

I’ve been reflecting on the way a season of darkness is also a season of light, holiday lights, candlelight, the warm glow of an early sunset, the brilliance of moonlight.

Singular light from a candle and from the full moon haloed in rainbow as a cloud passes. Light seen through and reflecting off ice in winter.

Attending to the Light

Begin noticing light in your environment at different hours of the day. You might begin with dawn, where is the light most noticeable first thing in the morning?

Late afternoon is another time of dramatic light. Where do you notice the brightest light entering your home? Is there a color to that light? Does it move as the sun sets?

You might take a photo, sketch the shape of a shadow, or write a few words inspired by the light you see. How is the light at noon, at the midpoint in the day? Try also sitting with the dark and perhaps the gentle illumination of a lamp or candlelight at night before you go to bed.

Watercolor of light at dawn, noon, dusk, and night.

Observing and attending is a creative response. If you feel inspired, you can record the light and color in some way too.

Collages depicting the movement and light of the sun and moon.

Collages reflecting activities and colors of light throughout the day

I welcome your observations, if you would like to share.

This will be my last newsletter of 2024; I look forward to enjoying some quiet time here with my family and will be back again in the new year.

Thank you for reading, sharing, and being part of creative community through this newsletter. Your participation is central to my work.

With wishes for connection, creativity, and joy this holiday season and into the new year,

Kathryn

I leave you with a poem I wrote inspired by my observations of light and color and by the book and poem by M. C. Richard’s titled, “Imagine Inventing Yellow.”

IMAGINE INVENTING YELLOW

​With paint 
accompanied by that joy 
in discovery 
of a child 
mixing paint with sticks.

But yellow is PRIMARY 
It comes FIRST
You can’t invent it!
The children protest
You said so -
I already KNOW that!

Ok then, 
imagine discovering yellow
in a field, 
a lone autumn tree 
bright against the faded browns
in warm highlights 
on white curtains, 
the plastic watering can
that pops against the green grass
as light returns after the rain

In the light 
at just the right time 
of day as the sun ripples the wall 
thrown in through 
hundred year old glass 
in a bungalow 
as children settle 
in late evening.  

Then gather those 
children close so
the thrill of discovery 
is so clear 
they feel they’ve invented
this yellow, 
can own it, 
name it, inhabit it, 
and share it.
​
- Kathryn Coneway (inspired by M. C. Richards)