October Sky

The 1999 movie October Sky is an inspiring film based on the true story of Homer Hickam, a boy growing up in a coal mining town, who dreamed of reaching the stars. Like every other boy in his community, he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps -- into the darkness and danger of the coal mine. But with the news of the launch of Sputnik 1 by the Soviets, a new idea came to Homer. He decided to build a rocket. Through trial and error, and with much help from his friends, Homer succeeded to reach his goal, eventually winning a gold medal at the National Science Fair and launching a large rocket 30,000 feet into the air. Homer went on to study engineering at Virginia Tech and worked many years for NASA. 

My October sky is not filled with rockets and lofty goals, but to me it's an achievement. I have been wanting to paint our beautiful Florida sky for many years. Every day brings a wonderful new work of art, painted by the Creator. From sunrise to sunset, the sky is constantly changing, from the first streaks of light in the morning to a glorious end of the day. To capture the wonder of sunlight on the clouds, a storm in the distance, or the fleeting beauty of a rainbow is an enchanting idea to me. So, after a decades-long hiatus from painting, I decided to give it a try.

I have always loved watercolors. I'm not even sure why. Perhaps it's the spontaneity that is suggested in the medium, or the ethereal quality of the paint that attracts me. But I think the thing that intrigues me the most is the challenge of getting those colors to do what I want them to do. Watercolor painting actually takes a great deal of thought. Because they are transparent, the artist must plan ahead in order to save the white of the paper. And because it is a wet medium, the paint behaves differently when applied to wet paper, as opposed to dry. Once all that thinking takes place, it is time to take action -- quickly, and without hesitation. Sometimes, the colors obediently do their duty. Other times, they do their own thing. And sometimes, their rebellious nature creates a lovely surprise! 

This week, I painted an October sky. It is the first, I'm sure, of many to come. There is plenty of room for improvement, but through trial and error, I hope to reach my goal. My skies will never be as magnificent as the ones painted by the Artist who created them. But I hope to eventually capture the splendor of the Florida sky.

Pennsylvania Hills, Florida Skies

I grew up in the hills of Pennsylvania. My house stood about half way up a steep avenue; I had to go uphill or downhill to visit a friend, walk to school, or go to the candy store. And in order to get back home again, I had to do the opposite. Some days I would walk up and down that hill three or four times. Often, in the summer, I would play in the gutter during the rain, splashing in the water as it ran down along the curb. Learning to ride a bicycle was a challenge, and sometimes we kids would try to get up the hill by zigzagging back and forth on the street. But usually we just walked, pushing our bikes along the way.

Going to school in the winter required great athletic skill. Many kids loved sled riding on the slippery sidewalk, but I preferred to simply slide down the hill in my old boots that were worn smooth on the bottoms. I would get a running start to pick up speed and then, like a surfer, take a stance with one foot in front of the other and ski along the surface of the snow, trying to maintain my balance.

The hills were beautiful, covered with trees, and added a bit of mystery to the landscape. One never quite knew what was around the corner or on the other side of the knoll. The thunder of a storm would echo through the valley, bouncing back and forth between the hills on either side of the river. And the haunting whistle of a freight train rattling along the tracks in the hollow often lulled me to sleep on hot summer nights. I loved the hills.

And then I moved to Florida. Just a few feet above sea level, the ground stretches to the horizon without a hill in sight. Children can ride bicycles and skate effortlessly on the flat sidewalks. And roads go on forever with few curves and no surprises. But God gave us something here in Florida that makes up for the lack of altitude in the landscape. He gave us the sky.

The sky we see each day in this flat land is not just a light blue ceiling with a cloud here and there. The Florida sky stretches to the horizon from east to west, from north to south. And oh, what a sky!  The colors of sunrise are breathtaking, the clouds reflecting orange and pink and purple, and then in a moment the sky is blue.Sometimes it is so blue that it looks as though a child colored it with a crayon -- you know, that color that our teachers told us didn't look real. Sometimes little wisps of white, like feathers, stretch across the sky. Other times, puffy white clouds are scattered about like cotton balls. Storm clouds roll in out of the Everglades each summer afternoon, bringing rain that can be seen from miles away, looking like a curtain of gray. The downpour usually lasts about ten or fifteen minutes, and then the sun comes out again, bringing with it a beautiful rainbow, a reminder of God's promise. And when the sun is setting in the west, a person can look in the opposite direction and see stars twinkling in the darkening sky.

I thought I would miss those Pennsylvania hills. But God knew better. Instead of the majesty of mountains, I now have the splendor of the sky. And each day, I am reminded of the One who created it all.

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. 

Psalm 19:1