The predominant colours outside this weekend is dull. We've had a rainy dreary weekend which seemed void of anything remotely colourful. If you were to take a quick wide angle glance, a swipe of vision, most likely you'd be inundated with grit brown ground, grey gloomy skies and a dark river chilled with ice floes. Snow still lingers though it is the ugly slushy kind.......a mixture of granular ice, leaves, salt and what will eventually be loamy mulch that will feed the lawns and gardens. Remnants litter the sides of the roads and pathways.......castaways ranging from tennis balls to forgotten touques, all soaked from a long winter covered by this year's accumulation of snow. It seems like we are surrounded by a brokenness only felt during the transitional time of year when we all need time to stretch the moans out of our hibernative lives.
I realized as I walked back down the hill towards my home that what I had seen perhaps was the artistry of realist painter, Andrew Wyeth who had the ability to capture the beauty in the lonely solitude of a dreary early spring day like no other. Life has so many hues and sometimes when we are in a frame of mind where our own melancholy mood reflects upon the landscape, we can't see the various tints and speckles hiding like treasure for our weary eyes. It takes a softening of our senses to welcome the opportunity to see our world through the eyes of appreciation.
"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show." Andrew Wyeth