Ode to Yellow

In 2012, while at a ceramic artist residency in Skaelskor, Denmark,

I became infatuated with the color yellow.

I wanted to get lost in it.

I saw it everywhere, on linens and wrapping paper, in boutiques and grocery stores, on the clothes people wore, and in the ceramics I saw in museums and galleries.

Was this a national secret?

Where had yellow been all my life?

It was a dark November and December and marked the beginning of my long love affair with yellow.

Billowy hats and knit scarves in daffodil and mustard yellows brightened my cold days of winter, craving some sort of hope, light, color.

I dreamt I was falling into a sea of dandelions, and bright yellow marshmallow peeps, engulfing me in their cheerful dread.

I needed to become it.

Spring arrived with all the yearnings to be alive again, all the moments to color the ground and cover the sky.

I am sneezing in a swarm of pollen, every tree within sight is sprouting and bursting.

The forsythia was forced months ago in a jar on the counter, and in the dark of night the crocuses finally begin to bloom.