A Purple Sandpiper in breeding plumage takes flight and refuses to go too far, its nest is surely nearby. The cries of a Snow Bunting among those of Meadow Pipits and Wheatears. Lemmings, first a young one, then an adult and a few more. The ground is plowed with the tunnels they have maintained under the thickness of snow during the winter. A female Merlin crossing in the distance, barely visible to the naked eye.

My days remain poor in wildlife despite everything. It is the evening, I arrive to a pass beyond which a headwind hits me in the face. In front of me, a heavy sky crossed by the rays of the sun. At the same time, a high-pitched cry sounds very close to me behind. I turn around to find myself face to face with two birds of prey in backlight rushing in my direction. In the background, the Rough-legged Buzzard which has just alarmed because of the presence in front of it of an immense bird of prey. I jump on my binoculars and while I expect to see a White-tailed eagle there I find myself face to face with a Golden Eagle, a young one from last year. Slowed down by the headwind, it crosses as if in slow motion ten meters from me. I drop the binoculars to savor an observation with the naked eye. I can see its yellow-ringed eye glancing at me, its flight feathers twisting in the wind, its wings slowly, amply stirring. A few dozen seconds that seem like long minutes to me. He turns to his right, his wings catch the wind that pushes him behind the ridge and makes him disappear.

The following days the blue sky dominates, the sun beats down and I find myself for my last night on one of the high points that surround me. I set up my tarp and my sleeping bag and spend the rest of the long evening watching the lights change, the shadows stretch, the calm settle in. Serenity of having time to contemplate, a time that passes slowly.

Leaning against my backpack, I make small studies of the landscape in watercolor. Finding the right value without exaggerating the contrast, the right color by looking for the exact shade. And then, as often, while it is before my eyes and it is up to me to look, I discover the extent of the nuances of these shadows. At first glance they are all the same, “gray” to put it simply, but some tend towards green, others towards ochre, others towards blue. Tiny nuances that go unnoticed when looking at the landscape, but which when ignored in the painting, make it not fall right and feel that something is wrong. We do not notice their presence in the landscape, but their absence shocks us on the painting. As always, painting from observation is a school that forces us to observe and not only to see. The color of the shadows is here revealed and with it some secrets of what makes the beauty of a landscape to our eyes.