It is overwhelming how much nature affects what we paint.
I spent time recently in the Rocky Mountains
and keep being drawn to the images that I saw.
The peaks
the clouds
the sun reflecting on surfaces
that were so varied
I was speechless.
And it was cold.
A welcome break from the South
and the Summer that seems to never end.
NO humidity
but clear
crisp
views
of endless jagged craggy surfaces.
The animals all seemed to stroll.
The Elk were boisterous
and kept baying
and announcing that these were their
mountains, not ours.
I wanted to hike them
and just sit in the cold air.
But I could not catch my breath enough to walk far.
At 12000 feet
I was lucky to be able to view them
from any distance at all from
the car that drove me to the summit.
But the open vistas
were intoxicating.
The sunset was very fast.
It crested
and dipped
and the only remnants of sun
dove in between the peaks.
As darkness fell
the surfaces took turns
glowing
and changing before my eyes.
I wanted to capture them
but photos did not do them justice.
And my memory is clear
as the cold air around them.
