Oh, the new colors around me are a life force. They actually lift my mood every time I look at a piece of furniture that I’ve painted (and I’m not very good at painting, but I get the job done). And I just have to smile.
Color is an amazing thing. As mercurial as a mood. I feel like I have a brand new crayon box and have opened it to find all these pretty crayons lined up just waiting to be used. And a synergy is created.
Sometimes I just sit here on my bed and stare at the books in my bookshelves. I know some like to turn them where you can’t see the spine, but that would ruin the joy for me.
I love to read the titles. Enjoy the symmetry.
If I’d known painting in a myriad of colors would have lifted me so, I’d have done it long ago!
Right now it is rainy and cold, not conducive to painting. I walk past the paint cans gathered together and tell myself: Soon.
I have given myself permission to paint with any color that pleases me. And that goes directly against everything I’ve done decor-wise for years. I was always trying to match up things somewhat so they didn’t stand out like a sore thumb.
But you know what? You put a whole bunch of sore thumbs together, and miraculously they not only mingle, but they begin to make sense!
Colors I would never have considered before: Orange and purple and all their variations.
I love red, but I was holding myself back. If in my garden every single bloom was the same color, it would be boring.
I think this idea gelled with me while I was recuperating. Having to sit so much of the time. Staring out the window. Wishing the browns of winter would metamorphosis into bright pretty colors.
What is drab and gray now will brighten up in a few months. There will be blooms. Oh, how I yearn for blooms!
Until then, I will paint my blooms with a paint brush.