There is an abiding, quiet joy in noticing the colour that surrounds me. It is something that feeds and warms me every day. From the startling lime green, purple and orange of vegetables glanced in the market as I pass, to the gleam of an embroidery thread rainbow tumbled on my desk. It is at once both a private pleasure and shared experience and never exactly the same the next time I look.
We live surrounded by colour. Even on the greyest of days, there it is sneaking up on me in the rosy red shine of an apple next to the yellow, bruised bananas in the fruit bowl, the hidden delight inside a pomegranate or kiwi fruit. I've even been known to have food on my plate just for the colour it lends the meal and the satisfaction it gives to see it there. No wonder I love experimenting with dyes, an ideal opportunity to enjoy more colours and possibilities every time a small treasure trove of fabric swatches emerges, fresh from the dye pot.
I've always loved the title of Arundhati Roy's book 'The God of Small Things' for the way it encapsulates and reminds us to really pay attention. I roll that phrase around as I wallow in the green, yellow and gold of a stranger's garden on my way into town. Quick, just take a look at the colour combinations surrounding you right now - in the laundry basket and endless piles of ironing, the spines of your unread books, the tumble of clothes on the bedroom chair and next door's raggy, shaggy brindle-coloured dogs. Glorious colour everywhere, waving at you.
The glory of dappled things like autumn leaves, that even in soggy, sodden piles on the pavement can still lift the heart as we go headlong into winter and its promise of hoar frost and dewdrop morning cobwebs. Take the time to treasure the glorious avenues of changing trees, the pink and orange sunsets, the gleaming palette of garden greens.
There is beauty in the world.