I’m writing tonight from Warrenton, Virginia. I’m participating in a retreat this weekend for the Gay and Lesbian Victory Fund at The Airlie Conference Center about an hour outside of Washington, DC.
900 gently-rolling acres; the color of ink on a dollar bill; ponds filled with wide mount base, turtles and swans with their contorting necks and dominant strut. The air is heavy tonight with rain that’s not yet fallen and the clouds are back-lit by flashes as big as half the sky.
They are dancing their stormy dance far, far away so I watch in silence. The quiet has warmth to it, far more penetrating than the temperature of the air. In the night, the birds are quiet. There are no crickets which I find interesting. I imagined there would be crickets but there are none.
Fireflies flicker above the meadows; here and there at once. Busy, but quiet. I remember the fireflies from my childhood visits to Disneyland and the Pirates of the Caribbean, all big and clumsy not floating like these.
Nature never disappoints. Whether it’s the top-heavy peonies spreading their color on the ground like smears of artist oils or the Bridal Veils with their vividly sweet aroma and cascades of white flowers tumbling to the ground, its colors are alive.
I wrote a few weeks ago about finding inspiration for colors in the home from nature. Wherever you are, find time to take a walk in a garden; through a field; near a creek or across the beach to the waters edge, and just make note of the colors you see and allow inspiration to float to the surface like those fireflies in the Virginia night.
