“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.
There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature --
the assurance that dawn comes after night,
and spring after winter.”
Rachel Carson, Silent Spring
My camera and I went looking for colours this morning. We found some.
I finally got around to reading Suzanne Collins' Mockingjay a couple of years ago. I think that our walk around the block in this almost colourless day would go well with a love story. Here is one from that book:
“At a few minutes before four,
Peeta turns to me again.
"Your favourite colour . . . it's green?"
"That's right."
Then I think of something to add.
"And yours is orange."
"Orange?"
He seems unconvinced.
"Not bright orange.
But soft.
Like the sunset," I say.
"At least, that's what you told me once."
"Oh."
He closes his eyes briefly,
maybe trying to conjure up that sunset,
then nods his head.
"Thank you."
But more words tumble out.
"You're a painter.
You're a baker.
You like to sleep with the windows open.
You never take sugar in your tea.
And you always double-knot your shoelaces."
Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.”
“The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.”
Marcus Aurelius
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