Monochromatic is not my style. Fit in with my surroundings? I don't think so. Many of us want to stand out from the crowd; that's normal but the world, our community, our friends want us to fit in. So I try.
Color, though. Color is where I draw the line. I don't want my colors to "fit in." I want my colors to announce their presence. Beige begs for a barrage of red. Or blue. Green. Or yellow. Eggshell and ecru elicit a call for verdant green or aquamarine.
I want my colors to surprise me. They will probably surprise you as they sometimes do my friends such as when I wear my pink glasses.
The oversized pink spectacless perplexed Peter, who promptly proclaimed, "Harry Caray." Or was that, perhaps, a proposal of "hari kari"? (Please pardon my p's. I couldn't prevent their pull.)
While I rejoice in the many hues of brown defining the trees of the woods and am calmed by the gray fluff of the clouds on a sunless day, how wonderful to come upon a splash of brightness against dull leaves and grass in early spring when my heart hungers for color.
This quest for unexpected color is what makes me keep hanging the garden's dogwood tree with strands of bright glass, marbles and mirrors. They aren't natural. Some might say that they don't belong in the garden, distracting the eye from the familiar leaves and flowers. It is that unexpectedness that that I love; the surprise as the sunlight bounces off a tiny mirror or shines through a red marble.
You might ask what has made me babble on about color. It's the snow. I love snow, but the white has become a bit too much. Nature hides from me under this blanket of white. This morning I want to see something else. I want to give you, the reader, something besides the glitter of snow. The clear lines of gray, brown and white that drew me last week have become mundane. They are expected. I stare out the window at the birds, thanking God for choosing to dress the blue jay and the cardinal in their gaudy plumage.
As I write these words, light begins to come through the window so the sun must be coming up. I'll go take a peek to see what the day brings. . . .The next moment finds me outside in slippered feet, witnessing a sky that is more than gray. It is cool blue fading to lavender and mauve then torn, exposing a flash of coral tinged with gold. Even the snow is no longer white.
Pale powder blue, it lies beneath the sky daring me to call it boring, mundane, monochromatic.
As I turn to run inside before my toes become ice, one last bit of color greets me welcoming me into the warmth that is home.