Yellow!
Ten things I love that are yellow. I made them not all be food or flowers, but it was hard. Via microbie, who gave me a color. Added aggravation: it was impossible to upload photos to lj for the past forever.
1. Winkies! From Oz! When I was little, I thought it was neat the way each part of the Land of Oz had its own color.
2. Forsythia! Forsythia remind me particularly of my parents. It was one of my father's favorites, and we always had some in the yard. I have some now, but this isn't one of mine. Mine don't flower too well.
3.
4.
5. My very first car was a yellow 1965 Volkswagen beetle. It was so old that it didn't have seat belts and it wouldn't go any faster than about 60 mph. I loved it so much. My parents sold it when I went to college, because I couldn't have a car there (not that it would have made it halfway across the country).
6. Yellow in the work of Odilon Redon. There are so many brilliant yellows in art but Redon's are probably my favorites. Sometimes they are a splash in a still life, and other times they indicate the numinous.
7. The original 1963 design still does it for me.
8.
9.
10. My favorite by Donald Justice:
Villanelle At Sundown
Turn your head. Look. The light is turning yellow.
The river seems enriched thereby, not to say deepened.
Why this is, I'll never be able to tell you.
Or are Americans half in love with failure?
One used to say so, reading Fitzgerald, as it happened.
(That Viking Portable, all water spotted and yellow--
remember?) Or does mere distance lend a value
to things? --false, it may be, but the view is hardly cheapened.
Why this is, I'll never be able to tell you.
The smoke, those tiny cars, the whole urban milieu--
One can like anything diminishment has sharpened.
Our painter friend, Lang, might show the whole thing yellow
and not be much off. It's nuance that counts, not color--
As in some late James novel, saved up for the long weekend
and vivid with all the Master simply won't tell you.
How frail our generation has got, how sallow
and pinched with just surviving! We all go off the deep end
finally, gold beaten thinly out to yellow.
And why this is, I'll never be able to tell you.
If you want a color, just ask.
1. Winkies! From Oz! When I was little, I thought it was neat the way each part of the Land of Oz had its own color.
2. Forsythia! Forsythia remind me particularly of my parents. It was one of my father's favorites, and we always had some in the yard. I have some now, but this isn't one of mine. Mine don't flower too well.
3.
4.
5. My very first car was a yellow 1965 Volkswagen beetle. It was so old that it didn't have seat belts and it wouldn't go any faster than about 60 mph. I loved it so much. My parents sold it when I went to college, because I couldn't have a car there (not that it would have made it halfway across the country).
6. Yellow in the work of Odilon Redon. There are so many brilliant yellows in art but Redon's are probably my favorites. Sometimes they are a splash in a still life, and other times they indicate the numinous.
7. The original 1963 design still does it for me.
8.
9.
10. My favorite by Donald Justice:
Villanelle At Sundown
Turn your head. Look. The light is turning yellow.
The river seems enriched thereby, not to say deepened.
Why this is, I'll never be able to tell you.
Or are Americans half in love with failure?
One used to say so, reading Fitzgerald, as it happened.
(That Viking Portable, all water spotted and yellow--
remember?) Or does mere distance lend a value
to things? --false, it may be, but the view is hardly cheapened.
Why this is, I'll never be able to tell you.
The smoke, those tiny cars, the whole urban milieu--
One can like anything diminishment has sharpened.
Our painter friend, Lang, might show the whole thing yellow
and not be much off. It's nuance that counts, not color--
As in some late James novel, saved up for the long weekend
and vivid with all the Master simply won't tell you.
How frail our generation has got, how sallow
and pinched with just surviving! We all go off the deep end
finally, gold beaten thinly out to yellow.
And why this is, I'll never be able to tell you.
If you want a color, just ask.