During the first lockdown, like a lot of other people I became more aware of my immediate surroundings. The streets and houses of my local suburban area were to which I was confined became both suddenly quiet and renewed. Connections were made to my past and childhood. There were echoes of walking to and from school along certain streets and past certain houses at different times of day and so on. I noticed the changing light and seasons, both in the streets, my garden, and inside the house as well. How the sunlight struck the kitchen wall, how it filtered through a pair of vintage lace curtains . I was struck by the early morning winter sunlight on the daily dog walk, by how it reached and lit up the tops of the trees first, and the shapes of the branches against the sky. I was struck by the wolf moon seen through the bare branches of the sycamore tree at the end of my garden. Also by the lights of my neighbour’s windows in winter. I tried to record these things as best I could, either in watercolour on paper or in acrylic paint on canvas, a medium which allowed for more depth and subtlety in capturing the effects of light at different times.