Beyond Brown

close up photo of bare tree
Photo by Tetyana Kovyrina on

Never one to have suffered from SAD (seasonal affective disorder), and having easily weathered (quite literally) many bad winters in my lifetime, I find it curious the last few days how impatient I’ve become with our transition into Spring.  Less about the season and more about the color, I’m tired of brown.   Not white, as in snow.  Not gray, as in skies.  Brown…as in, everything is blah.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love brown.  I have brown throughout my home.   But it’s a happy, chocolate brown.   The kind you can almost taste.  The brown to which I refer is the brown I see as I gaze out my picture window.  Brown trees with no buds.  Brown grass, crunchy and lifeless.    Brown mist, compliments of the local construction projects and the rainfall.

Scanning my house, popping with sage and muted yellow walls, red kitchen cabinets and blue denim slipcovers (and, yes, some chocolate brown), one would wonder how anyone could be complaining about the brown beyond her window.    I roam, room to room, and count the houseplants as I water.  Thirty one in all.  But it’s not enough greenery to offset the brown mood I’ve adopted.

Perhaps it’s not the brown at all that bothers me.  Perhaps it’s the lack of life and the holding pattern we’re in.  That “in between” time.  It’s no longer Winter, and it’s not quite Spring.  Internally, I feel a similar pause.  Anxious to transition but not knowing what’s next.   The image of a cat, bum in the air, wiggling, ready to pounce comes to mind.  I, too, am ready to leap.

white and black cat
Photo by Flickr on

But not yet.

It’s not quite time.  Underneath all the brown, there is a secret work being done.  Things I cannot see are happening.  Life is forming.  Percolating.  Perfecting itself.  The art of nature cannot be rushed.

Neither can the masterpiece of ourselves.

I don’t do well in the wait, the meantime.   We live in an instantaneous world.  We can have everything immediately.   Everything except patience.  It can only be learned one way.

And so I wait.   The rain will stop.  The trees will burst.  The grass will grow.   Brown will give way to many colors.


So for now, brown it is.



Open, and

Willing…for what’s





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