I've come to realize that I think in color (and texture too). Not dream in color (though I do do that), but think. Like when I read a fic, especially one that really gets me, one that I really love, there will be a color there in my mind. Like its been spread over it like a blanket and I find myself wanting to say things like this is so crisp blue ( Read more... )

The clouds are scraping the ground. They are so low that everything further than thirty feet away fades to white. The top two thirds of my vision is suddenly blurry and I rub my eyes to try and fix it. But it doesn't change. The color has been sucked out, like a popsicle. And it glows. It's too bright and strange to really look up. The entire sky, ( Read more... )

It is a blustery day and the gusts blow through the squash weeds grass clover in the fields in ripples, waves of dark green light green, dark green light green. Swallows surf on eddies of air currents flowing off the gable end of the barn roof, there must be twenty of them playing in the air up there. From the top of the hill you can see the clouds ( Read more... )

The lilacs are blooming and the entire yard is filled with their scent. It's almost as if the moisture in the air it holding the smell closer to the ground. There's hardly a breeze to blow it around so it just sits there and you don't even notice until you walk by, and then everything is coated with a purple scented hazy. And it does smell purple, ( Read more... )

Sometimes something perfectly ordinary is just the best thing in the world. Sometimes something simple is all you need. Like the avacado, spicy mozzarella and tomato sandwich on toasted rye I just finished. Heaven. Yes this is me waxing philosophical about a sandwich, but it was a really good sandwich.

Spent the better part of the afternoon tromping about through the woods and marveling at the trilliams growing in random patches here and there, and always on south facing slopes. Three big leaves, three little petal-like leaves, three dark red petals, six yellow stamen, and always tilting slightly over so you can't quite see them, as if they're ( Read more... )

when every day, every hour almost, the leaves are bigger and everything changes so quickly. All of the hills are spread with a subtle haze of color, new yellow-green and the deep dark red of maple flowers. The tiny leaves over dark branches seem translucent, the spaces between them not yet filled. The colors are almost more beautiful than autumn ( Read more... )