Just a Little Color, Please....

How to describe one's January yearnings for rantipole hues, curving shapes, foreign musics and exotic fragrances? There is a brief spell of thawing going on here, and the day is dishing out rain and snow by turns.  When temperatures tumble again in a day or two, there will be ice everywhere, and I can hardly wait to begin a new odyssey of sliding and slipping between here and everywhere else.

In such weather, one finds herself turning inward and a tad thoughtful, downing mug after mug of Darjeeling or Earl Grey, prowling through the library at all hours of the day and night, hauling out sketch books and playing with collage, looking for color - any old vibrant color will do. In the kitchen I stare at a box of clementines or a tidy heap of saffron threads on the counter, and a bowl of pomegranates on the sideboard stops me dead in my tracks - the things are just so bright and pleasingly shaped. Beating eggs for this morning's omelet, I got lost in all the gloriously yolky gold and stood gazing into the bowl for some time before getting on with the task at hand. It is a wonder that anyone in my tribe gets fed on days like these.

Birds visiting our snow drowned garden garden don't seem to mind the weather, and outside there is the scarlet flash of cardinals' wings in the hedgerow, the blue of nattering jays, the yellow of grosbeaks, the delicate grays and creams of chickadees and nuthatches at the feeders. Filling the bird feeders a few minutes ago, I stopped by the cathedral fretwork of rose canes along the fence, and along came a memory right out of the shaggy green halls of departed summer - one of multitudinous blush-colored blooms and old rose fragrance. A little further along, the old stone birdbath held a frothy confection of frozen russet leaves and stems, scallops of ice and bubbles like champagne. I was going to chuck out the contents and fill the birdbath with seed this week, but I can't bring myself to disturb the fetching frozen arrangement.

Returning indoors, I made a pot of tea and tucked John Williams' lovely Mediterranean Concerto on the CD player. Though it be both snowing and raining, all is well.