Monday, May 30, 2005
Pretty Colors
Given the semi-tropical clime here it's a little hard to tell when spring has sprung. It's not as though greenery suddenly bursts from once frozen barren ground or naked branches. There's no crack of the bat or growl of the lawnmmowers - or even hissing of summer lawns. A sudden boost in humidity combined with frequent acid rain showers was about it; that is until late last week when the blankets and winter clothes began to bloom.
Outside on the stair and entrance railings of select "blocks" of my apartment complex many residents have hung out their winter wear and bedding to dry. Permission was granted in the form of memos posted in our lobbies detailing which blocks and dates the laundry could be legally aired. Suddenly there's been an explosion of multi-colored and textured blankets, comforters, sweaters, parkas and other heavy garments and wraps - most too warm here for my Colorado-accustomed self even during the coldest weeks - like fluttering randomly patterned foliage.
Children's parkas hang length wise, one after another climbing and sliding on rails like so many small multi-hued ghosts. I look at the blankets and comforters swaying, hanging and flapping and wonder at their stories. What winter night sweats, tears and fears did they enfold? Whose bliss did they wrap? What new lives were made under them? Who threw or kicked them off in anger and who pulled them tighter with a sigh?
They're free now to stretch in the late May sun, airing their stories with one another before being collected, carefully folded and stored for another trip around the sun.
Given the semi-tropical clime here it's a little hard to tell when spring has sprung. It's not as though greenery suddenly bursts from once frozen barren ground or naked branches. There's no crack of the bat or growl of the lawnmmowers - or even hissing of summer lawns. A sudden boost in humidity combined with frequent acid rain showers was about it; that is until late last week when the blankets and winter clothes began to bloom.
Outside on the stair and entrance railings of select "blocks" of my apartment complex many residents have hung out their winter wear and bedding to dry. Permission was granted in the form of memos posted in our lobbies detailing which blocks and dates the laundry could be legally aired. Suddenly there's been an explosion of multi-colored and textured blankets, comforters, sweaters, parkas and other heavy garments and wraps - most too warm here for my Colorado-accustomed self even during the coldest weeks - like fluttering randomly patterned foliage.
Children's parkas hang length wise, one after another climbing and sliding on rails like so many small multi-hued ghosts. I look at the blankets and comforters swaying, hanging and flapping and wonder at their stories. What winter night sweats, tears and fears did they enfold? Whose bliss did they wrap? What new lives were made under them? Who threw or kicked them off in anger and who pulled them tighter with a sigh?
They're free now to stretch in the late May sun, airing their stories with one another before being collected, carefully folded and stored for another trip around the sun.
# posted by Justin @ 12:09 AM 
