“I’m not a big fan of patterns. I like the unexpected.” — James Purefoy
The truth about humans is that we are draw to inconsistencies in pattern. The dissonance in a chord, the hole in a fence, the flaw in a fabric, are all examples of the unexpected. Our eye, is drawn to them. Our heart skips a beat. Yet, there is nothing unexpected without the laying down of a pattern, something expected, first.
. . . and please take a moment to check out these interpretations:
There is a secret I’ve been harboring (yes, another one). I’ve been having an emotional affair with sumac. Not any particular sumac. Just sumac in general. I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened. What started as fascination, quickly blossomed into something much more serious. Once I brought out my camera, it was clear this was not a casual relationship. Please try not to think any less of me. I make this public confession as a first step toward my healing process. What follows is a photo-medley journaling my liaison over the past year.
Thank you for hearing me out. And thank you to all those who have stood by me during this obsession that has plagued me. I think primarily of Bubba who has stood by me, literally, waiting for me to take yet another photo of a sumac. He never complains, just waits while I find just the right angle. He would, I’m sure, appreciate my mentioning that he has a particularly good eye for a photo opportunity, and has no problem swerving off the road and turning the car around to capture it! What a guy!
Speaking of color . . . we were, weren’t we? I am a highly visual person with a brain hard-wired for color association. I dream in vivid technicolor. The colors often symbolize feelings. I once had a very passionate dream about someone I should not be dreaming passionately about. The walls were a deep cranberry red, the flush of lust. Outside the window, there was a light illuminating the innocence of pure white snow. It was a calm, quiet, flurry of snow, but I was content to stay inside. I woke up just as the kiss touched my lips, my heart pounding against my rib cage!
As a mother of young children, it was not uncommon for me to hear people remark how cute it was that I dressed us all in the same color, something I would never intentionally do! Clearly, it had been a red day (or blue, or green, etc.) and the clothes I chose for each of us reflected the color that fit my mood.
When I see a color that catches my eye, I will instantly see other items in the room that match it. I will say, “Ooh! I like the color of your blouse.” Then, “Oh look how it matches the straw in your drink and the book on that shelf!” I notice immediately if two co-workers are wearing the same color.
It should come as no surprise, then, that this is my least favorite time of the year. The hues drain from the trees and flowers, leaving behind the browns, tans and grays of death. I’ve noticed my mood spiraling downward, weighted by the bleak of winter.
Walking with the dogs today, I forgot my camera at home, but did have my phone with me. Setting up a scavenger hunt for myself, I went to work searching for signs of color in the drab landscape.