It rained last night, pulling the last of the leaves off the tree outside my window and plastering them on the roof, walk, and lawn. There are a few trees across the road that still have their leaves, and my two little trees of orange are holding their own, making the world yellow today both above and below. If the sun comes out, the yellow on the ground is going to subtly shift the color of the sky to make it look exotic to those who care to look for it. I’ve heard it said that the sky in the Arizona desert is the same as the one on the African plains–the color of the ground and the wide expanse working together to shift the perceived color of the sky. I believe it, because that Arizona desert sky is still imprinted in my memory as being unique, and I’ve not see it for at least two years.
If I’m lucky, I get one or two “yellow” days a year, but I never noticed them at all until I spent a few falls in the woods where the shift in the sky color was so obvious it reached out and smacked you. Now I have to look for it. Wait. I hope for a bright enough sky with a carpet of yellow to reflect the clear wavelength back up. Needless to say I don’t let Guy rake our lawn outside my office window until all the leaves are down and I have the best chance. All Guy knows is I’m very casual about the leaves until early November. -grin-
Some might say that I’m inventing things to see, that there can’t possibly be enough yellow on the ground to shift my perception of the sky. But the way I figure it, we see what our mind wants us to, what it expects, and does that make the experience any less real? So I’m hoping that the sun comes out today and gives me a glimpse of . . . yellow.