Desperately Seeking Colour

I should have known it was too good to be true when my first winter in London started off so sunny. Hey, I lived in Vancouver for 12 years, I know the drill. But even as the days got shorter and shorter, there were enough sunny stretches that I was able to keep hoping that we'd circumvent the rainy season on our way to spring.

No such luck.

Since January 1, the skies over London have been relentlessly cloudy. I feel as if I've been living in this blank sphere of uninterrupted grey, a monotony unbroken by any splashes of colour. I don't know if this is true of all London neighbourhoods, but our little corner of it is a symphony in drab brick and stone: red brick row houses, buildings of ochre stone, rows of brown brick flats... you get the idea. Not much on which to feast the eyes.

When I worked as a summer camp counsellor in Canada, one of my favourite activities was to bring out a margarine tub of little square paint samples, and have the kids each choose one at random. Their task was then to go out and find something in nature that matched their paint chip perfectly. What never ceased to amaze me about this exercise was that they were always successful in hunting down those colours, from the softest lavender to the brashest orange. I was always astounded at how much colour there is all around us, even when our minds filter most of it out. It's just a question of taking the time to look.

So today I decided to play this game on my daily walk along the Thames; not restricting myself to natural phenomena, but just trying to be observant of the colours around me, letting them sink in for a change. I found myself noticing things I'd never seen before, and appreciating familiar sights even more: the mini daffs growing bravely outside our front door, the bright red post boxes, the colourful river boats, the early plum and cherry blossoms, the cheerful pub signs, the occasional stained glass detail or vibrant shout of hot pink street art.

My colourful stroll reminded me that much of what I see depends on where I put my focus, both literally and figuratively. I haven't been the happiest camper these last few grey months in London, but maybe that's because I'm playing the wrong games. Time to get out my little paint chips -- call them friendship, call them creativity, call them wonder -- and scurry around this city, to see what I can find.

I came home from my walk to find a whimsical, vibrantly coloured postcard from a friend in Japan. A jungle of goofy little cartoon animals, all looking insanely pleased with themselves, shouted out: "HELLO! HAPPY?"

And in that moment, I was. Grey skies and all.