Reflections on water under the bridge

Today I have been thinking about how you know what the arc of a life is only when it is over. How children live in the present and adults mostly don't. And wondering how each of us can make the most of the time we have when its length is unknown.

After a surprising, mild, sunny morning, the late afternoon light was an unusual yellow, turning all the buildings watery gold. At the river the light was metallic. I took some pictures of the gold and pewter sky when, from nowhere, rain fell and added silver to the mix.

The sky that created this light.

It reminded me of a painting I half remember from an exhibition of Turner's, Whistler's and Monet's pictures of the Thames, but I can't find it. If you happen to know the one I'm after, please tell me.

Edit - I've found it. It's Nocturne: Battersea Bridge by Whistler. It was the shapes not the colour - funny how memory works...