We are finally seeing the arrival of ‘good light’, here in Norfolk. The low winter sun has departed, and with it, the harsh blinding light we have endured since December. Today, I went out with Ollie, and basked in that proper early summer light. Everything looked fresh and clean. Colours are finally rendered correctly. The various shrubs, trees, and grasses have finally managed to display their true greens. The battleship greys of winter are behind us, and the hundreds of different greens, from blue-black, to a yellow hue, are once again visible.
Shadows are evident once more, and my own walked ahead of me , distorted by light into an elongated version of my original. The local river took on a different aspect too. The winter light, harsh and reflective, was replaced by polarising light, enabling me to see the bottom of the shallow water; sometimes sharp clear gravel, other times a muddy mess of decomposing reeds. Butterflies flicker in the sunshine, and by the water’s edge, clouds of tiny insects fly in spirals.
Over at Hoe Rough, the light is sharp, affording a view of at least a mile, if not more. This late afternoon light is the best you will ever see; untroubled by pollution, excessive cloud formation, or haze. The bees are busy, sounding loud and alarming after a long winter absence. Flowers emerge on the spiny bushes, and the different hues of the shrubs are at long last discernible. This is a great time of year. Pleasantly warm, but not unduly hot. Blue skies with a light that illuminates all, dappling the shadows, and the tree branches looming large. This light is elusive, and much sought-after by photographers and painters. It lasts but a short time, before being replaced by dazzling sunshine. It is simply magical.
I could live forever in this light.
It is the light of composition, of adequate but unobtrusive reflection, a light reluctant to depart at dusk. I could have lived out my days in London, and never noticed it.
In Norfolk, it cries out for attention, for praise, and acclamation. It is wonderful.