It was such a warm and rich yellow, so much like the mustard color, I dyed some of the white wool last year.
When I rubbed it between my fingers, it was powdery like the pollen on the dining room tablecloth under the Gerbera daisy.
But where had it come from.
I looked out on the icy landscape almost expecting to see goldenrod popping up through the snow. A tint of red in some of the branches in the marsh, the winter green of the white pines and Cedar, a whisper of sage on the bark of the apple tree, and bare wood, almost yellow where the donkeys had nibbled it. But overall there was gray.
The chickens still needed to be cared for so I left the barnyard but my eyes were still seeking yellow.
I found it in the electoral cord that heats the bowl in the chicken coop, snaking through the snow.
And in Fate’s urine, frozen in the snow.
The Tin Man’s face absolutely glowed yellow, ice dripping from his nose.
And that’s when I thought of the flowers in the hay. Was it possible that they still held a hint of color even though they’ve been drying in bales since the summer?
Back in the barnyard, the animals were still eating. In the hay feeder I found some clover, the flower pink and orange. I crushed it between my fingers thinking it might turn yellow just as colors derived from plants often turn unlikely colors when used for dying.
My feet were getting cold and I was ready to give up. But I thought I’d wait for Jon who was taking pictures of the apple tree. I looked around me and saw how the branches of the Cedar were hanging low with ice, creating a cozy space. I wanted to be under them, to watch the rain trickle through the icy greens.
And that’s when I saw the yellow. Tiny flecks in the snow. The shell of the sunflower seed, which possibly gave its color to the bird droppings close by.
I’ve seen bird dropping on the sheep and donkey’s backs before. But it’s usually white, gray, or berry-stained purple in the summer. Never have I seen this mustard yellow. It must have dried on Liam’s wool.
All the moisture sucked out of it, naturally dying his white wool yellow, for a little while anyway.
6 thoughts on “Yellow On A Gray Day”
I’ll bet it was fun trying to figure this out. Looks like you can add detective to your resumé!
It was Barbara. And I was most surprised. It was a process of thinking I knew then letting the idea go again and again.
I love how you take us on an adventure finding the most fascinating things. I felt like I was right along with you.
I was surprised to find out where it came from Janet. I’m glad you felt what I did in looking and finding.
It might be little buds falling from the cedar trees that is staining yellow. That’s what your photo looks like. Hmmm….
It’s a cedar tree, and I did look for buds Hazel. But I’m going to look into it. It may be Cedars bud this time of year I suppose.