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Writer's pictureJamie Denty

Sky


An artist moved to New York from South Georgia. Upon her return South for a visit, she commented that she was no longer painting skies.


Here in the South, she was known for her delicate watercolors of skycapes. Therefore, the departure from her developed style proved to be a surprise to her listener. She went on to explain that Northern skies just couldn’t compare with Southern skies.


As so often happens, the conversation turned about that time and the listener failed to ask why or how. But after the artist left, the listener went outside and looked up.


Even though the air was cold and chilled, the Southern sky was a clear, distinct blue as far as the eye could see. The next day found the same blue sky dotted with cottony white clouds. As as the clouds drifted, the face of the sky changed.


With the rains, the sky turned gray. But the layers of clouds and the rain itself created shades upon shades of gray.


As the day turned to dusk, the sky was aflame with color. It was as if the artist had flung a palette full of paints against a blue canvas.


Later, the listener talked about skies with yet another artist. And this artist noted that the skies around here are full of pinks and purples.


The listener had seen those colors in the sunset and perhaps in the overcast skies. But pinks and purples in the heavenly blue?


And so, the listener set out to watch the skies some more…always searching for the pinks and purples. Is that what makes Southern skies paintable?


Now, the children’s kites dot the sky. Surely, no one passes a child tugging on a string without looking skyward to spot the kite. And such searches forces the observer to seek the colors.


It has become a fascinating adventure to look at the sky each day. You know the blues are different. The clouds are different. The texture, the perspective differs day after day. It truly is a wonder to view.


As I have kept this daily vigil of skywatching, I am forced to remember how many days probably passed when I never bothered to look up and behold the heavens. It is far too easy to go through the day looking straight ahead or back over your shoulder or down at the ground.


I still haven’t seen the pinks and purples in all the skies, but I am looking. I haven’t seen Northern skies to make a comparison, but I am beginning to see why Southern skies inspire artists.


Have you tried sky watching lately? It’s a fascinating adventure even if you aren’t an artist.


1976

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