If it’s not completely overcast, we are treated to a daily show of blue.
It begins and ends with the blue hour, when the sun sits below the horizon and only the shorter, blue wavelengths of the sunlight make it through to where we stand.
And then the spectacle starts - the sky slowly changes from the deepest blue to a palish hue, with red and yellow thrown in as a bonus, and then back again.
This, for me, is one of the joys of being alive. To wake up to this ever-changing, glorious display of colour every single day.
And if, like me, you’re lucky enough to live or work near the water, it gets even better. Its surface colour changes with the changes of the sky, reflecting and scattering the light.
Dutch light, much beloved by painters throughout the ages, is beautiful - although Joseph Beuys claims its special qualities vanished during the 1950s.
But if you ask me, the light in Venice, with its deep blue lagoon, is even more magical. Every day in Venice is being treated to a symphony in blue and pink. It’s irresistible.
Canaletto, Grand Canal: Looking from Palazzo Balbi, ca. 1726, Gemäldegalerie, Dresden
That’s one of the reasons I love Italian artist Canaletto (1697 – 1768).
He faithfully portrays the buildings and palaces of Venice, but the main attraction in his paintings is blue: the magical marriage of water and sky.
Today, try and capture the daily symphony of blues where you live.
How does the light change throughout the day?
How is it echoed - and changed - by water?
Observe it, capture it and share using the hashtag #kramerseye on Twitter or Instagram.