CREATIVITY is the soul reflected

Master Painter

Master Painter
Prairie Sunrise by Charlie Clark

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Color found

I posted the last week about craving color. A trip to Yoder, KS, provided that.

To begin with, I saw YELLOW daffodils and YELLOW forsythia beginning to bloom.

A friend and I went there for the Parade of Quilts, an annual event during which handiwork of local residents is displayed in several of the town's businesses. Now, that dished up lots of color!

Debbie and granddaugher Zoie
Zoie and me
My indulgence: blackberry cream pie

It's always fun to visit this Amish community, though it being a weekday, we didn't see any horses and buggies. Usually I go on a Saturday, which is the day families go to town to shop. I've always been intrigued with the Amish way of life, its simplicity, devotion to family life, strong faith, hard work, superior craftsmanship, dedication to basics. I've written before about this fascination, and I always come away from there  re-inspired. I'm ready to dig out old sewing projects and start new ones; to go through photo files and scrapbook memories. 

I even want to spring-cleanshock

In the past few days, spring has been popping out all around. Trees that were nothing but bare twigs last week are graced with delicate green fringe. Grass is greening—and growing (is that a mower being tuned up?). Charlie had the rototiller out in the garden this morning and has gone to the nursery for seeds and seed potatoes. 

Green forcing its way up through the dead remains of last year's perennials
The piece de resistance is this:

Barely above the ground, this tiny hyacinth sensed the urgency to bloom and provide a bit of color to its drab surroundings.


Saturday, March 19, 2011

Craving color

It's raining, dark and chilly again today. 

As usual, I'm inspired by reading other blogs. Sometimes the author puts into perfect words exactly what I am thinking, but unable to articulate. This was the case when I read a post by Kelly Letky here:

Then there's, where the photography is as beautiful as the prose.

It has been a long winter, with more snow that I can remember in years and years, especially since I've been in Kansas. An honest-to-goodness blizzard, followed one week later by record low of -17° and 17" more of snow. 

At least while there was snow, there was brightness. When the flakes stopped coming down, the sun lit up the sky, a brilliant cloudless blue.

But something happened. The snow melted, the skies became endless varying shades of gray, the wind blew harder, and the landscape was nothing but drab gray and brown and beige. It rained, it sleeted, a little more snow fell and melted, and the mud deepened. I fell into such a funk.

Shades of brown, beige and gray

I got a new camera March 1 and began looking desperately for color. The only bright spots outside were the cardinals who frequented our feeders and an occasional bluebird. But they flitted away as quickly as I approached the window. Winter sunsets, however, provide a feast for the eye.

January sunset

Progression of a winter sunset

I was, as Kelly so aptly put it, "craving color like chocolate." And more aptly, colorful flowers. I settled for the pots of geraniums in my bedroom window. 


Then my bougainvilleaall winter a bare, thorny brown twig—began putting on blossoms. Fragile looking paper-like flowers with tiny white star-shaped centers. As the days lengthened, the clusters became more profuse. Still barely a green leaf! 

Bougainvillea mid-February

Bougainvillea in full bloom, a month later in Mid-March

Then yesterday, while walking through the yard, I saw these tiny (1/8"—¼" blue flowers with white centers. Their official name is Speedwell or Veronica, but I've always called them Little Blue Eyes. Hurray! Color, outside. 

Speedwell/Veronica aka Little Blue Eyes

And I noticed the frogs and robins singing and saw buzzards gliding overhead. I do believe it's finally happening! Spring is coming.

It's a bit late, but I'll close with this Irish blessing, taken from prairiegirl's blog:

may you have warm words on a cold evening,
a full moon on a dark night,
and a smooth road all the way to your door.