seeing yellow

I’m seeing yellow. I brought it to mind. Now it jumps out at me.

This dear butterfly has landed on my joe pie weed. That plant is common here – and is now in full bloom at the end of summer. The pollinators love it. And I love seeing them.

At the end of summer: it’s Labor Day Weekend.

And, speaking of yellow, it’s kind of the end of yellow.

By yellow, I am only talking about the sun. And sunlight. And how sun affects the colors of everything it shines on.

You see it vividly in the early morning. The bright rays reach horizontally across the sky, from that “crack” of dawn, to touch the grey bark on a nearby tree. Grey no longer. It’s definitely yellow now.

I recall books on color. Which deomstrate how we THINK we see color. So that something we know as grey on, say, a rainy day (sunless), the color is dull grey. The same grey colored object is photographed from dawn to dusk on a sunny day, and it shifts from yellow at daybreak to almost white in full sun and then to rosy pink at sunset. Do we notice?

Not necessarily. Until the color of the object itself drastically changes. Hello fall.

That’s when yellow will be all over New England. And the sad farewell of the summer will be alleviated by the brightness in the landscape itself. Nature as nurturer.

Before all that yellow disappears and it’s covered in white.


Right now: seeing yellow.