I know the Golden Hour is meant to be 6 am but for me it isn’t. I live in the countryside, which I suppose means I ought to be up at the crack of dawn and listening to the morning chorus, but the song I love happens much later.
Do you know that a barn owl makes no sound? I know because I’ve stood with a barn owl next to me at shoulder height and I wouldn’t have noticed but for the movement of the wings. It occurred in that in-between time. When it isn’t day but it isn’t night. When the world becomes a supernatural place of purple shadows and defused light. That is my golden hour.
Except that if you go our at 1 am you can see the bats flying. Where I live they come in all sizes and in the summer to autumn will swoop around the light from the back, catching insects.
You can hear our little owl and tawny owl argue over a small plot of ground. The scream of a caught mouse and the cry of a fox. My chorus occurs at night.
We live in a area with no light pollution and I can stand outside and be surrounded by stars. It is as if you can reach out a hand and touch them, thousands of them.
I am a night person and as a result I won’t see 6 am, but I don’t mind because I get to hear the dark and it’s many secrets.
The painting is one of my illustrations. Watercolour on paper.