A photograph of an old sundial in a friends garden and blended with one of my watercolour paintings using CS3
My inspirations was a poem The Garden Sundial by Tom Baehr
I count only the sunny hours,
so the inscription on
the garden sundial reads
discounting the clouded times,
the dark moments in our lives.
But snow falling outside my window
lacks form until it catches on
the black calligraph of branches
on the nearby trees, creating
a Yin and Yang of wholeness.
And the window, eye to the world by day,
darkens as the light fails until all it can do
is mirror my room, messy, cluttered,
but everything important within reach;
my haven from that very world.
There has to be a darkness, you see;
even the sundial relies on it, after all,
to mark the time across its face,
its very relevance depending on
the angled blade’s shadow.