Shades of Grey

I love the color grey. Most of the clothes I own are grey, smoky to charcoal and back again. My favorite blanket is the dark greyish black of storm clouds. I love the way it hovers between light and dark. I love the way that grey means transitions, fall to winter, winter to spring. I love the way the sky is grey, and has been all weekend. I love the way it makes me yearn for fresh baked bread, for hot tea and honey, for toasted sandwiches- running forth with cheese and artichokes, or tomato and mozzarella. I love the way grey makes me hover between winter and spring, knowing inside that one is ending and the other is beginning. For there are shades of grey, and the grey of late is warmer and lighter, having exhausted it's heaviness and darkness in the months already passing and slipping into the reaches of yesterday. I love the way that this grey, this shade, means Spring- that from it the daffodils in front of my work find the strength to shoot up, that everywhere, perennials are blooming, and small wild flowers are creeping, creeping up until one day soon, the grey will be blue and there will be riotous color out my door.

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