As a photographer, I can say that dusk is one of my favorite times to take a picture. The light is soft and indirect, and dusk takes us on a passage from darkness to light, and then back again the next morning when the lite is also soft and indirect.

Painters talk about the limpid light of Tuscany, I think of the limpid light of dusk. Today, I got to capture two images of dusk. The first was the sun descending across the hills around the farm, the last light is most grace when kissing the white birch tree good night.

U see the birch as reaching up into the sky, praying for us and the farm.

In my study, the setting sun lit up the old bookcase in my study, once a chicken coop in an old barn in  West Hebron, N.Y.

The dusk was kind to both images, I made one into a photo/painting, the other just told its own story of the sun.

Dusk, my favorite bookcase, the fevered brain