It is so hard to look out at the gray rainy weather and dream. This is the day for dismal thoughts and dreary outlooks. At least it’s not a monsoon, and I’m not out in the wind. There’s the Pollyanna side. I don’t feel at all Pollyanna-ish about it. I’m ready to shop for plants and flowering shrubs full of life and color, but not in this weather. It takes the light out of the day and brings an early nightfall and I sleep when I should be lit up with the joy of writing.
Ah, I just had a gray memory that was also bright. My grandma’s eyes changed from gray to blue-gray to bright sparkling blue depending on emotional state or the color of her clothes. I had bought a gray coat that I loved. Grandma loved it, too, so I gave it to her, not because I am such a wonderful person, but because I loved Grandma more the coat. One other neat thing happened when we transferred ownership of the coat: I discovered I was as small as my little Grandma! Unfortunately, it didn’t last, but it was a sweet gray time.