This time of year, I feel a little like Dorothy living in Kansas at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz. My dreams may be in living color, but the reality of wintertime in Iowa is cold, black and white.

Yellow - Brick Road

Starting in November, the vibrant greens, pinks, blues purples, and yellows of summer, and the brilliant reds and oranges of autumn are gradually replaced by a monochromatic palette of browns, grays, blacks, and whites. By the time January rolls around, the view outside my window is white, white and more white. Winter snow, fog, ice, and overcast skies dominate the landscape until late February – if we’re lucky, late April if we’re not.

From camera December 2015 011.jpg

A friend of mine who’s an artist has tried to convince me that there are subtle shades of pink, blue and lavender lurking behind the obvious in my all-white, wintertime world. But hard as I try to see past the stark glare and focus on the subtle intricacies of white, I still miss color.

From camera December 2015 025

 

I survive wintertime by surrounding myself with colorful images – bright foods, cheery Christmas and Valentine decorations, perky clothes, jewelry and hats, and photo collages from summertime vacation and events. I keep watch for the occasional breathtaking sunrise or sunset. And I write.

Pictures from phone 9Sept2015 006

Like Dorothy, I dream of far off places. I imagine colorful characters and places and things. I type black words on a white screen and with those words, create worlds where it’s springtime, where flowers are blooming and the sunshine is golden and warm.

Ely - roses

 

 

Like Dorothy, I love my family. I choose to live where it’s cold and white for several months of the year because there’s no place like home. But in my mind’s eye, I’ll take some color, please. True colors – bright, vivid pinks, blues, and purples to start. Green and yellow sound just peachy, too – don’t you think?

From camera December 2015 007

 

 

So until springtime comes, happy winter to all – you can find me and my imagination hanging somewhere over the rainbow, at least until May.

Sporing - bluebells

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