Clouds are so low it feels like one can touch them just standing on tiptoes, they are grey and thick and let very little light through.
It's such a frustrating situation for a painter. One struggles all day with darkness: lights on, lights off, daylight bulbs, blue bulbs... and then you go out at four o'clock and there it is: a very dark line of clouds and underneath it the sun on the horizon.
Look west and the clear sky you have been longing for all day is aptly appearing in the distance just moments before the sunset.
This far away line of blazing light is a constant sight of my school runs, that usually mark the end of the painting day in winter.
Today it was there once again and I had my camera handy.
This cruel prank the weather plays on me is such a feature of London skies that the looming dark grey found its way in the background of a couple of paintings from last winter.
Small winter rose, oil on linen (45x38cm)
Ficus, oil on linen (106x55cm).
November, here we go again.