Posts Tagged: colour

spring is purple

“But, luckily, he kept his wits and his Purple crayon.” — Harold and the Purple Crayon, 1955

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mr. rabbit shows up on earth day

Today, in honour of Earth Day, I go for a walk and spend some time mostly in the Toronto Music Garden near my home.  It's gratifying to find the place coming alive in every corner.  And I hate to think that we have snow forecasted for the next few days. 

No, I'm not kidding.  April Fools Day was 22 days ago.  But nature isn't as delicate as you might think either.  I'm sure it'll be okay in the end.

When I get to the Music Garden, the first thing that greets me is pink.  I'm reminded of a book we enjoyed when my kids were small:

Mr Rabbit and the Lovely PresentIn that book, a girl is looking for a gift for her mother.  Mr. Rabbit helps her, in his indirect way, and in the end she gives her mother a most beautiful birthday gift of colour, which she found in nature.

Yeah, I thought of that book today.

 

image from www.flickr.com

pink

 

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blue

 

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yellow

 

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red

 

image from www.flickr.com

green

Happy Earth Day.  Whatever season you're in, I hope you're noticing the colour around you.

 

a quiet weekend and twenty-seventh day of noting beautiful stuff

beautiful things found in the process of a quiet, sun-filled weekend:

  • Queen Street East buskers: the one at the LCBO near my house who plays all the best soulful rock songs from the seventies and the nineties (reminds me of a band I once loved back in Windsor); and the gorgeous, gorgeous blues player with the really long black and grey braids and sunglasses and the warm and pleasant "why thank you" down at the other LCBO; (and no, I didn't spend my whole weekend hanging about the local liquor stores); and some seasonal newbies today: the pair of teenage girls singing (pretty badly actually, but they'll grow, I have no doubt) and playing guitar by the library and the young guy cranking out heavy metal solos just down the way in front of the church.
  • Colour.  The forsythia have been blooming all week.  And crocus and scilla are popping up willy nilly in the greening lawns.  And the colour of the trees – not only the busting out buds in shades of soft green, but the branches which seem to be pulsing with deeper, richer hue – more black looking against the early morning or evening light.
  • This movie, and this one, and this one.  All three about the connection between beauty and love – how one enhances the other. 
  • Muted sunlight and cool breezes awakening me in morning instead of the alarm clock.
  • Evening light:

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day ten and light and colour before the snowstorm

Last weekend, before we got socked with this dumping of snow, we had two days of luscious, gorgous vitamin D.  When the days are sunny in February – everyone busts outside.  On Saturday I shopped and walked in my neighbourhood, and then later in the afternoon I walked via the beach to have burgers and beers with a friend and the colours tagged along. 

A tiny little mitten, no more than three inches high, hung in a tree in the hopes that the owner's grownup will find it:

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Down at the lake the sun sinks lower and the colours get richer. 

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Then, into the park and up towards Queen Street the light softens.  I admire it on the giant humanoid tree legs and their snakey tree arms reaching out. Maybe they're reaching out toward the last bit of daylight.  Or to spring.  Compared to the yellows and oranges down at the beach, I think this muted light is mystical.

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