There's something so tender about the early evening in a city, when the streets dim and windows begin to glow, revealing little vignettes of life inside.   A woman with an apron at her kitchen sink.  A lamp turned on beside a favorite chair.  A flicker of warmth from a fireplace.

I came across the photograph above and couldn't stop staring. 

I couldn't stop staring  ...  and imagining.  It's got to be Paris right?  What is the woman with the apron making for dinner?  Gougères I bet.  Yum, my favorite.  Who does the leg in the window above her belong to?  Her son or daughter?  Or a stranger in another apartment?  Or a perhaps a handsome stranger she'll fall in love with in the film adaptation spinning about in my head.  What scent does our undoubtedly beautiful apron-clad protagonist wear?  It has to be French, of course.  It's turns out to be the leg-man's mother's signature scent too, and that's how they strike up a conversation in the elevator.  READ MORE

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“At one magical instant in your early morning or late afternoon, you will see the light - light so extraordinary that it seems to have come from another world.”

There’s a hush that falls when the day turns the corner toward evening and the light becomes golden - that fleeting hour when a ray of sun slips through the window as if carrying a secret message.  Beyond the glass, it softens everything it touches: the lapping waves on a New England rocky coast, a small Virginia garden gone quiet, a strand of pearls on my studio table catching the glow.

Photographers call it the magic hour - that post sunrise or late afternoon sun that illuminates a subject, almost as if a glow were lit from within.   READ MORE

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