Color in the cove

Cove
Route 1, Mystic, Conn.
Oil, 12x12

I spent much of October driving north to find the brilliant color I’d been expecting October to bring. I found some, but, of course, as the month progressed, the color passed. Wind tore the leaves from the trees around Woodstock, Brooklyn and Canterbury, Conn. And still the color didn’t come to the coast.

Then, I began to see it - but only in places where I couldn’t paint! Private lands; edges of busy roadways; fields with angles right for painting in morning light, but where the color would only show in the afternoon.

Finally, on Route 1, a road I’d driven a million times, I saw this little cove. I could pull over, get off the road, and the trees that I could see caught the light of the setting sun.

Bronze morning

Route 82 field
Near Leffingwell, Conn.
Oil, 10 x 20

It was late October, and the color had seeped from the trees in northern Connecticut. It had barely arrived in southern Connecticut before it began to fade. Our trees grew bronze instead of golden, cinnamon instead of scarlet. Lovely, yes. Passionate, no.

The brightest spot in this landscape was the little hillside along the roadway behind the field. Here, the fallen leaves seemed to glow.

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Fire on the water

Pond
Woodstock, Conn.
Oil, 16x20. sold

Honest, it looked like this. The trees on the opposite bank were so bright, I nearly drove off the road when I saw them. Half a dozen cars stopped while I painted to take pictures of these fiery trees.