The World is a Carousel of Color*

Never more so than in the month of May around these parts.  Between azaleas, rhododendrons, iris, columbine, dogwoods, and peonies, it’s a riot for the visual senses.  The green of the trees is still crisp and fresh, although we are soon headed for the wilted and tired when it hits 90 degrees here next week.  I am prepared.  I have air conditioning, hear me roar!  (Well, hear IT roar.  Or hum.  Whatever.)

I also have color all up in my senses because I went to an art store today.  The bliss.  The joy.  The almost trembling.  I may have gotten carried away, especially when I was stroking the amazing hand-made papers that were like gossamer and printed like fabrics.  The intensity of color spoke to me on a different level and I realized that I respond to color with my yarn as well.  My favorite color is green, but I couldn’t possibly isolate what kind of green; olive, moss, grass, jade, deep deep emerald….yet every car I buy is red.  I gravitate towards pinks and purples (princess much?) in some wardrobe choices.  Royal blue and periwinkle catch my eye and I linger.  Yellow and orange, not so much, but I love Autumn the most.  Perhaps that is why the art store just dazzled me.  I stood in front of the colored pencil rack and gazed appreciatively before I reached for the list I brought of pencils I wanted.

I carefully unfolded the paper, and decided to start with the blues.  “1100,” I murmured, and scanned the labels.  Frowning, I scanned them again.  And again.  Sheepishly, I turned to Older Daughter and bleated “help?”  I couldn’t read the minuscule numbers printed on each bin and wouldn’t know if I was getting 1100 or 1768.  What a great daughter she was, too, because she pretended it was hard for her to read the numbers as well and she frowned and squinted and took a moment before whipping the correct pencil out of its bin.  The numbers are printed on each pencil in a silver reflective oval which you have to hold at a certain angle to see, much like an old-fashioned mercury thermometer.  But I’ve got them, I’ve got twenty-three new colors that I will spend tomorrow playing with and making new little tags for inkytags and little labels and tiny arts.  Ironic, isn’t it, that my preferred choice of art is making miniatures?

My joy in color is probably enhanced too by recently knitting a black cardigan sweater, and while I absolutely loved the scrumptious yarn I was dying to work with color again.  I started a very colorful pair of socks (pinks and purples, see what I mean?) and I think I need to draw some flowers.  And leaves.  Lots of green.

*Anyone know the reference for the title?  It’s an oldie that I loved.

PS–wouldn’t anyone like to adopt this little family of yarn?

Or really cute dishcloths.

Or really cute dishcloths.

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