The thing I am conscious of today as I paint is the way the sunlight falls on this flame azalea branch. It is morning. The light is clean and pure. It filters through the high canopy of poplar trees and falls at a slant on this shrub. I like the glowing quality of light in the morning and I'm trying to capture it here. It isn't the harsh contrasts of high noon on a bright day. Nor is it the long shadows and golden glow of a late afternoon. No, morning light in the understory is calm and quiet, like a whisper. It says, "Psst! Look over here! Something beautiful is coming to life!"
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