CREATIVITY is the soul reflected

Master Painter

Master Painter
Prairie Sunrise by Charlie Clark

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.

No comments:

Post a Comment