The colour of winter

As long as I can remember, winter as a season, was my least favourite. The trees lose their leaves, the grass turns from a beautiful green to a dreary brown and everything looks quite dead. Getting out of my cosy, warm bed to tackle the new day, stepping foot on the icy tiles, losing the warmth the blankets created over my body - is not the ideal way one would like to start ones day.

My mind was swimming in colours of dull-brown, cinerious-grey and primrose-yellow. As a born and bred South African lady, the sun plays a vital role in my world. Having to wake up in the dark, as well as drive home from work in the dark, this really does make my day feel like all work and no play.

Winter, fall, spring and summer used to be the leading actors in my mind's screenplay. Winter being the angry Wicked Witch of the West; fall used to be the dying Tinman. Spring's character could be explained as Glinda, the throne-mistress of Oz and Summer - off course, being Dorothy with her bright red ruby slippers.

You will notice that all of the above has been written in past tense, because my mind no longer roams in a fairytale about angry witches, flying monkeys and wizards in hot air balloons.

My colour of winter has become an amaranthine purple-red, aurulent-gold and cerulean sky-blue. The cold wind against my cheek makes me feel alive, knowing that the blood running through my veins is keeping my heart beating to the rhythm of my people's beat. Knowing that when I get home tonight, I can cook up a storm in my kitchen. Warm, delicious soups and stews, paired with a beautiful red wine, enjoyed with my darling husband on a comfy couch, covered with a snug blanket.
Hugs and cuddles from my gorgeous children become longer, as their childhood's become shorter.

Colours and characters are interchangeable at the drop of a hat. All you have to do is ensure they paint your picture right.