The Fine Mist

“I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on" 

―Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal

Is it nighttime yet, Reshma?

There is something magical to me about dusk in a city under a misty rain.  I love the way the lights glow, and perhaps the anticipation of people closing up their shops with dreams of someplace warmer and cozier.

My friend Jane and I started the evening by the harbor at Lake Michigan, but lasted only about 5 minutes due to the heavier mist.  We made our way inward, and instead I completed a sketch (and she a watercolor) across the street from the Art Institute from the vantage of a cozy Starbucks.  

Jane often completes paintings along her travels and was an inspiration to me to start an art blog.  She has quite a gift with watercolors and a hopping Etsy business, too (http://waterpaintings.blogspot.com).  

I have also been thinking about my roommate Reshma this week, as she holds the traditional Ramadan fast--praying and abstaining from all food and liquid from sun-up to sun-down.  As Jane and I made our way back through the misty night, we wondered if nighttime is determined as absolute based on the sunset times, or whether on such a dim evening it might come earlier.

Jane will be moving just outside the city, and I home to Virginia, this summer.  But I have enjoyed sharing some painting art ventures with her, and tonight I felt like a regular city-dweller in an enchanting city.

And speaking of enchanting.  

Post by Anne Krane.