The Color of Winter

One of the daily park sitters and his dog, Ryoma.

I'm sitting by the river, letting my skin soak up some Vitamin D. Even an hour before sunset, the colors are so muted.The blue river looks overtaken by grey murkiness. A blue sky is dilluted by dull white clouds. Even green grass is taking on the yellowed tans of the dead stalks it's next to. This is a Tokushima winter.

A week ago when Subin and I took a walk along this same river, she told me how much she liked the colors. Instead of seeing the a lackluster landscape, she saw the soft beiges as a kind of comfort. She comes from Korea, where it's blue all day long, and Seattle with its steady greens and overcast greys that occasionally give way to vibrant blue skies. Never has she seen this dead grassland that makes up my childhood.

Looking again, I see tiny white flowers peeping out of the dead grass. A tangled bush of stickers frames its spiky balls against a steel blue backdrop. Across the river I see the sharp royal blue of a fishing boat waiting quietly on the shore. It's a pretty world.

Did you see it?