Wednesday, February 1, 2012
A Brown Study
I am so tired of brown already. Brown leaves carpet the ground, brown sticks in the pots where once flowers and green plants grew. Brown branches, stark and naked. Even with dots of bright fuchsia, too much brown.
And gray. The sky is gray today.
Brown and gray.
There is promise, everywhere. Buds tightly holding themselves with fleshy petals, more color.
But not nearly enough to overthrow the brown. The gray.
One blue egg. I held it in the palm of my hand and took its picture.
Ms. Flopsy has decided to abandon her experiment in egg-setting, I suppose. Perhaps it was nothing more than a sudden whiff of an urge or a practice session. A playing-with-dolls.
Owen cradled the orange juice bottle the other day as if it were a baby. "Love it," he said tenderly.
Oh yes. Orange juice is good. And it is...orange.
I crave to be back by the water.
I mean really- how can you compare that to this
and not see exactly and entirely why the brown is just a little too much for me right now and why one pale blue egg really has no hope of lifting my spirits to any great degree?
There is nothing wrong with brown except that it is the color of winter-death and shit.
Nothing wrong with it at all.
Or gray, either.
Just...I miss blue. I miss it a lot.
Even as I am grateful for this place here which I do love which right now happens to be framed in brown and gray.
There is beauty here, even though. Even though.
The sun suddenly breaks through the clouds and I look up and see the gray interrupted with bands of blue. Like the buds of fuchsia, pink and red-and-white striped, it is promise.
But in Cozumel, it was more than promise. It was the reality I woke up to every morning.
Well. Time for a walk in the brown woods. Time to quit whining and be glad I had it. All that blue and green and purple. But I tell you something- it is not ungrateful of me to miss those colors. It's ridiculous to even think that. It is just reality. Why in this world shouldn't I miss them? What sort of idiot wouldn't?
The dogs need baths. Fleas are brown too, you know.
Tired of brown.
Too bad. So sad.