Learning to love yellow
I haven't given the colour yellow a fair hearing for quite sometime now.
It's never seemed quite right as a 'creative' or an 'observer' to say I didn't like it, but yellow irritated me.
For years I dug up the stubborn daffodils that dared to survive despite my efforts at extermination. I found their shrill optimism hard to stomach and all that wavy frothy frilling was just well...naff. Yellow didn't sit and blend in with my melancholic nature.
But yesterday I found yellow again.
Looking about for some tiles for my new shower (o dream of bathroom to follow) I fixed eyes on a shade of yellow and we clicked...
"hellllllloo yellow", I said
"hey you", it soothed back
so now whilst attempting to plan my new bathing experience I keep cooing over yellow.
Taking up my time and slipped moments lost in yellow daydreams. 'Pineapple crush glass' tiles with a 'meadow' mosaic. I realise you don't see it quite like I do but in the tile showroom something in my middle melted.
Maybe its the antidote for all the whiteness and snowiness and coldness and this long long winter
but that yellow infatuation keeps on growing
I'm seeing it everywhere now...
the pale creamyness of the butter block laying in a white dish;
the bedspread from Turkey with its tufts of acidic nuclear yellow laid out like well ordered fields of wasteland scrub;
the bunches of daffodills left on my doorstep by Mandy to cheer up a creaky navy blue mood, now stuffed into a cracked gravy jug becoming the foreground of my garden/washing up view,
their greenish points spilling into yellow applause
and a mustardish creeping bloom of lichen on a frozen roadside sign
Green and I, we go way back. It's always been me and green but from a flowing line of historic green can come yellow, so naturally and so subtly. Like we were old friends all along and I had been too wrapped up in that all shouting, singing, dancing one man band of green to notice.
I wonder how long this love could last?