Grays

We’re all complaining about how gray, gray, gray it’s been—the endless rain and cloud cover; the days that just never get light. But I am tired of complaining, too, and have drawn up a list of grays that aren’t depressing. Pleasing grays, soul-satisfying grays—

the luxuriant gray of Himalayan cats

oysters, especially baked three ways, like that place in New Orleans which is probably gone now

Earl Gray tea

a dappled gray hunter named Tapatia clearing a jump

gray-green olive trees on a hillside in eastern Crete

a crisp pinot gris from Alsace

my wooly gray lambswool sweater, I must pull out to wear with turquoise

dried sage leaves

elephants

the middle name of my Bonnard quest heroine, Isabel Grayfeather Girard

my true love’s dear, silvering hair

gray fog covering Venice, yes!

image: Nebbia a Venezia: Riva degli Schiavoni. Foto di Giovanni Dall'Orto, 10/12/2007