"The color of springtime is in the flowers,
the color of winter is in the imagination."
—Ward Elliot Hour
A glimpse of a back garden in the early afternoon, behind a neighborhood Victorian, made me long to be sitting there, cat on lap, tea in thermos, notebook at the ready, watching for winter birds, drinking the sun in, ignoring the chill in the air, not having to go back to work.
images: Pierre Bonnard, Austin garden, rusted fence
I wish those in the photographs and the painting were the colours of winter where I live. I love rusted fences. They remind me of a book I read when I was younger, The Secret Garden; I didn't like the book, except for the concept of secret garden and all that was hidden within it, the mysterious buds and fences, the red roses and the portions of uncut grass.
ReplyDeleteOddly enough, it really is greenest here in California in January, because of all the rain. We have these heartbreakingly beautiful days that promise spring, and then break the promise for another several months. I, too, love overgrown gardens tucked away behind rusted or paint-peeling fences. Never did read or see The Secret Garden, but I'm very fond of novels with gardens in them. As well as gardens with novels in them!
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