12x12
Acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas
BLUE HOUR, GOLDEN WINDOWS
There’s an hour the hill waits for all day.
It arrives quietly in blue, softening everything and asking only that you notice.
The cottages feel it first. Their windows glow, warm and golden, like something remembered. Inside, small moments unfold…tea poured, stories shared, silence kept kindly.
If you pass by then, when the sky is neither day nor night, you might feel it too,
a gentle easing, a quiet pull.
Because in the blue hour, the windows don’t shine to be seen.
They shine to remind you where you belong.