Friday, November 25, 2011
Growing in no one's garden
In the wild
London, ON, November 2011
The more time I spend outside in the murky grey weeks between the brightest autumn colors and the first snowfall (can't believe I just said that), the more I realize how much color remains. I know it isn't that brilliant, smack-you-in-the-face intensity of a tree seemingly on fire with red, but that doesn't mean it can't have an impact all its own.
It's a more subtle kind of color, a quieter message, a softer form of loveliness that doesn't reach out to us as much as it quietly asks us to lean a little closer. So on this not-so-bright, not-so-warm Sunday morning, I buttoned my coat up, tightened up my scarf and shuddered as the dampness reached inside anyway. And I slowed down, because I found I had to look harder to find what I was looking for.
As I composed the photo you see above, it occurred to me that the whole subtle-color thing extends well beyond photography.
Your turn: What do you see when you slow down and lean in?
One more thing: Click here for more muted Thematic.