Posted tagged ‘yellow’

Yellow: Coldplay

November 30, 2018

“Stars of heaven, clear and bright, Shine upon this Christmas light, Vaster far than midnight skies Are its timeless mysteries.”

December 19, 2017

Last night it rained. The snow became pockmarked by the raindrops then most of it disappeared. The last of the snow is soft and wet. It was cloudy this morning, but I can see blue sky now and a hint of sunshine. Today is already 49˚ but it will be cold again tonight.

When I was a kid, the closer we got to Christmas the more difficult it was for me to breathe. I was in a constant state of excitement with all the Christmas doings. I loved the late afternoon when my brother and I raced to turn on the window candles. The best, a five candle tier, was in the picture window. It had all orange bulbs. The candles were sort of an off-white plastic, and most were taped to the window sill so they wouldn’t keep falling over from the weight of the bulbs. We had to screw the bulbs on as there were no switches. We had to screw them off as well, but we never raced for that. The bulbs were always hot to the touch. I used to lick my fingers before I touched the hot bulbs.

My mother kept us busy to distract us, to keep us calm, a huge undertaking. My favorite day was when we decorated sugar cookies. My mother made Santas, bells, trees and angels. She’d have bowls of white frosting and colored frosting in green, red and yellow. None of us were particularly talented. The trees were the easiest. I’d color them green, naturally, then I’d make strings of yellow and red lights. Santa was a bit more complicated because of the white pompom on his hat and his beard. The key was to frost the red parts first and try to leave space for the white. My Santas tended to look all the same. The angels got the yellow frosting. Sometimes we’d cover the whole cookie in white then we’d sprinkle with green or red or colored jimmies. That was usually when we had gotten tired and maybe a bit bored.

I always thought that at Christmas time everything seemed to look different, as if the world around me was covered by an aura. Even now I sometimes think that, especially at night when the air is clear and the sky star-lit and Christmas lights shine from the houses. Last night I went around and turned on my tree lights. In the kitchen I turned on the red pepper and scallop shell lights entwined around a shelf. I stood for a while enchanted by how lovely my house looks at night, how warm it is, how perfect for Christmas.

“But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day.”

October 5, 2017

The sun is bright, the sky is an amazing blue, and the breeze is ever so slight, all combining to make for a perfectly lovely day, summer’s return engagement for this week anyway.

When I was a kid, this was the golden season when all the leaves turned yellow. I know there must have been other colors, but it is the yellow I remember the most, the yellow I can still see in my mind’s eye. Fallen leaves covered the sidewalks, and most times I’d  kick them into the air as I walked to school. As the leaves dried, they made a crunching sound and broke apart when we walked on them. The wind took the pieces. I remember October as a warm month when a sweater or a light jacket was enough.

My only bad memory of October was having to go inside earlier and earlier as the days got shorter and shorter. I sort of felt cheater.

I have been lazy. I read most of yesterday and finished the book I got on Tuesday from the library. My to do list didn’t shrink. My halloween decorations are still in the cellar. The bird feeders are now really low on seed. I just have to get motivated.

I’m get to binge on sports today. The Sox open their series with the Astros at 4 and the Pats play against the Buccaneers at 8:20.

My dad would have loved to have seen the success of the Patriots. His allegiance switched from the Giants when the Pats came into being. He was always a home team fan. He loved football and hockey the most. He was only a so so fan of baseball and didn’t enjoy basketball at all. He and I had opposite favorites, but I do watch the Pats but never the Bruins.

Time is passing so very quickly. September was gone in heartbeat. If I were still a kid, I’d love such a quick passage, but now I want time to go slowly so I can savor every minute.

“Close your eyes because all the great sounds of existence can best be heard with eyes shut!”

April 10, 2017

The morning has been a bit trying. Nothing I did made Gracie happy. I walked her down the stairs to the yard twice. I gave her treats three times. I patted her until my hand was tired. She wasn’t impressed. She sat beside me and stared. When I ignore her, she gave me the paw on my arm. When I continued to ignore her, she continued to put her paw on my arm. She drove me crazy. Finally, she got on the couch, got comfy, and went to sleep beside me. It is amazing how much my dog rules the roost.

Spring is happening all around me. Colors are coming back into the world. Hyacinths are blooming in my front garden. Purple, pink and red flowers are popping from circles of small fronds. The daffodils in the flower bed closest to the house are sun bright. Every morning when I get the papers, I see something new in the garden.

I have no energy today to do anything. I didn’t make my usual list of chores as I’m generally compelled to finish most of them. My logic insists if there is no list, there are no chores.

I heard the kids playing this morning around 8. There are 6 boys in two houses, and they are loud. They communicate by yelling. They go out to play before the school buses come. Most times they wake me up but not all the way up. I hear them, register the fact in my brain then turn over and go back to sleep. When I was in Ghana, I did the same thing with the call to prayer. A mosque was down on the street below and across from my bedroom during Peace Corps training. The mosque was small and was sandwiched between two houses. Arabic was written at the top of the smallest ever minaret. From that mosque, I could hear the muezzin sing the calls to prayer. The one at 3:30 or so used to wake me up then I got used to it. I listened knowing when it would end so I could go back to sleep. It was the same with the dawn call. Being awakened twice by a muezzin had become commonplace for me. I could never have imagined that.

“Give crayons. Adults are disturbingly impoverished of these magical dream sticks.”

August 29, 2013

Today is dark, damp and chilly, but I don’t mind. My dance card is empty so I’ll probably just stay around the house and read. Last night I started a book called The Altar of Bones. It will keep me occupied.

I feel witless today. Nothing of import rambles in my brain. I looked out the window over the sink for a long while waiting for the coffee to brew. The male gold finches are at their most beautiful. Their feathers are deep yellow and striking in the darkness of the day. I noticed the red chests of the house finches. Even slight colors pop on a day like today.

For the longest time, probably well over twenty years, the walls of my house were white. Color came from whatever I used to decorate. One year, though, when it was time to repaint, I decided to go with color. I didn’t just choose pale or pastel colors. Nope, I went put on your sunglasses bright. The living room is lipstick, a deep red. I chose grey as its companion color. The bathroom went pink, bright in your face pink. Nutmeg was my choice for the dining room, and it is my favorite of all the colors. The kitchen is green but an odd color green difficult to describe. The hall is blue, a light blue. Upstairs the hall is grey because the walls leading to it are red. The open linen closet is red, sort of the living room in reverse. My room is a bright yellow; the guest room is deep blue and the bathroom was lilac. I say was because that bathroom is now blue-green to match the new shower curtain, but I liked the lilac so much I used it downstairs in the once pink bathroom. I like the lilac better.

All this talk of color has reminded me of my Crayola crayons, the box I always got for going back to school. There were 48 colors back then. No other kind of crayons would do. They would be an embarrassment, just pale imitations of Crayola crayons. I remember opening the box and getting my first whiff of those crayons. It was a special smell that only came from a box of crayons. I’d look at those perfect crayon tips lined up in the box then I’d pick the crayons up one at a time to see the name of the color. I learned burnt Sienna is a sort of brown and periwinkle is a kind of blue. It wasn’t just a red crayon in that box. It was brick red or violet red. Yellow was lemon yellow, as bright as the fruit. There were new words for me to learn like magenta, thistle and maize. The colors were the hints.

I have a commemorative tin of Crayola Crayons. It contains all 48 colors that were in my box some of which have since been discontinued. The tin isn’t valuable in money, but when I open it, I smell the crayons and see those tips lined up in a row, and I am seven again. That tin is invaluable to me!

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”

April 18, 2013

Today is a sunny but chilly day. The forsythia in my yard has blossomed and is the most beautiful yellow. It is the sun come to ground for just a little bit. The sky is as blue as it can ever be, and not a cloud can be seen, not even the smallest. Gracie has been in the yard all morning playing with her partially deflated basketball. She carries it in her mouth and runs around the yard. When she gets tired, she lies in the sun on the deck then comes in for a drink from her porcelain water bowl and then goes back outside. A dog never wastes a beautiful day. A chipmunk is my newest nemesis. It is small enough not to trip the feeder which thwarts the spawns. I look out the window, and when I see the chipmunk sitting on the feeder and munching, I run out and scare it. This morning it didn’t hear me, and I got close enough to touch it had I wanted to, but then it saw me and ran across the rail. I chased it just to scare it, and I did. I had to clean the rail afterwards.

Yesterday I treated myself to lunch. I had a panini with bacon, cheddar, avocado, lettuce and horseradish. It was delicious. I sat and ate my lunch at a table by the window and watched the traffic, cars and people, go by. I bought Gracie a treat at the dog store and then went home, satisfied I hadn’t wasted a beautiful day.

My cats sleep in the sun. They whack each other for position then settle in where the sun shines the brightest. Fern usually gets the better spot, and she stretches out her body so that all of it will feel the warmth. She starts at the front door then moves to the back in the early afternoon. Gracie is a bit afraid of Fern who takes full advantage of that fear. When Fern is by the back door, Gracie won’t come in her dog door. She bangs it to let me know she wants in and wants a bit of protection. I save her. Fern has never hurt Gracie. She just intimidates. Her favorite game is keep Gracie off the bed. Fern runs from side to side so Gracie won’t jump on the bed. I save Gracie. Fern washes Gracie often especially while all of us are on the bed. Poor Gracie sits wide-eyed wondering what might happen. Nothing ever does. Fern likes Gracie, but she also likes being the top dog, so to speak. Pets are interesting and funny and loving.