And There Was Colour

It’s a proven scientific fact that colour makes people smile, probably. It has to be, because whenever you get a movie that’s meant to be all dark and dystopian, they always leech the colour right out of the whole thing. Even the logo gets all the colour taken out.

Whereas montages of happy memories and honeymoon good times are always SUPER colourful, which is why I grow flowers in the first place. I don’t hog all the goodness for my very own; instead, I ┬ábring colour to all who need it. And the greatest forms of colour are daffodils. Mixed daffodils, to be precise. Just yesterday I climbed the drain pipe at a hospital, because have you SEEN the inside of a hospital? Actually, it’d be a really good thing if you hadn’t, because it would mean that you’ve never been sick enough to go there. But they’re usually very white, sometimes grey…and that’s it. Anyway, i climbed that drain pipe with a bag full of mixed daffodils and I just scattered them in a few rooms, along the corridors, and then I was gone like a thief. That is, a thief who only steals an unfriendly atmosphere and leaves behind colourful wonder, so not a very good thief, but a very good visitor overall.

Basically, if there’s a deficit of colour, I’m there with my daffodils, and occasionally roses if I manage to get the colour bright enough. Tried leaving standard roses around the place one time, but I think people took it as romantic rather than simply positive. Fair enough.

I have plans to hit up a vet surgery, a certain cafe down the way that has adopted jet black as its colour scheme, and some day, an orphanage. Don’t even know if there are any of those still around, but they tend to be drab, and I’m sure the children would love some of my hyacinth apricot passions. The international flower of parental love.