It's one of those days when the sky is a solid sheet of light gray. There is no color in it at all. It's not a dark gray; it's light, very light, but not white. There is no blue, no other color. The clouds up there are blocking out the blue. And there isn't much contrast, either. Maybe a little bit, but not very much at all. It's more like a solid shield of gray that the tops of the trees contrast with.
Off in the distance, I see the roof lines of a couple of houses. Mostly, however, I see the bare branches of the Gambels oak trees. I suppose if you studied the patterns of those branches long enough and hard enough you could find some symmetry or design in them. However, the cursory looks and attention that I give them, leads to no such symmetries or design. Yet, somehow, their patterns against the sky brings some comfort and artistic beauty within my soul. I can't explain it or rationalize it; perhaps I could but doing so would somehow make it less meaningful and moving.
In the days ahead, the branches will begin to reveal their hidden secret, the new growth that hides within them. Life will begin to burst forth from them, the yellows mixed with blues that will slowly evolve to solid green that will not be so solid if you look closely at it. I can see the first imaginings of the buds within those branches now.
Such life, such hidden color, rests within each of us, waiting to get out.
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