Shades of Gray

It was the faded and flaking white paint on the house with the sagging roof line that made me realize just how many shades of gray - and how little vibrant color - make up the first quarter of every year.

The gray overcast of the morning made it difficult to determine where the corners of the house ended and the clouds began. The muted silver bark of barren trees provided little contrast to the weathered clapboards. Even the decaying mulch in the empty flowerbeds was indistinguishable from the house itself.

Everywhere I looked I saw gray in the early January morning. Streets turned gray by morning dew, windows turned gray from condensation, the silver gray of metal poles supporting street lights,  even gray and silver cars far outnumbered those of any other color.

All of this drove home just how bleak this time of year is.  In search of escape I turned the radio dial until the voices of the Beach Boys came through the speakers in the car.  Aruba, Bahama, come on pretty Mama.....

..... and escaped to the tropical greens of the Caribbean