F. and I recently had the opportunity to spend some time in Atlanta (about two hours south of here) with friends of ours visiting from Canada.
(Well, actually, I’m not really sure where to say they are “from,” as these two are really more like citizens of the world. They are originally German and now intend to make Australia their permanent (?) home. But at the precise moment we saw them, they’d just flown in from their place in Toronto, so I guess I’m sticking with that.)
I was lamenting that they were seeing Atlanta in its dormant phase, deep within a subtle, drab, grey-brown southeastern January, when S. interrupted to protest that she actually found the area very green indeed.
At first I thought she was kidding. A quick look around us revealed the usual wintry scene: Greens totally in absentia. It certainly didn’t feel “very green” to me at all.
Then I wondered about that. Was this merely a classic case of seeing what one expects to see?
As soon as I was able after we came home, I went out on a mini-safari with my camera, determined to find green. I was still skeptical and thought I’d end up with loads of shots like this:
January's flowers.
Truthfully, at first sepia and fawn and burnt sienna shots were a little easier to see.
But it turns out Green was literally all around me, all the time, even in the depths of winter.
(Click to enlarge.)
Ferns still abound, some only a few feet from my front door. Evergreens like boxwood and holly color the landscape. Moss is literally everywhere, quite a bit less vibrant than usual, but I suspect that is due more to drought than cold. Bulbs are busy pushing their thick, blue-green stems out of the cold earth. A variety of magnolias still hold their leathery leaves up to the sun, including the Sweet Bay Magnolia pictured in the lower right corner of the collage.
My rosemary (top) and parsley are still zinging in the kitchen garden, along with bright spots formed by a few intrepid, curled mustard seedlings trying to get a jump on spring. In the front garden, Spanish lavender held onto its distinctive color (a soft grey-green) even as snow piled up on each of its stems a couple of weeks ago.
And that’s not counting the ubiquitous* monkey grass and the tenacious, clinging ivy — or a gazillion pine trees.
The winter view is green after all. Sometimes even glowing, glorious, stained-glass-window green.
On Sunday, I found a brand new patch of green — and white — to make me smile.
Snowdrops
Just a little hint of spring around the bend.
So what do you think: Do we see what we expect to see?
I’m pretty sure we do — and that this propensity extends far beyond a question of color in the seasonal landscape. I’m 100% sure of this, though: It helps to get an outside perspective on things, especially from a friend you trust.
Namasté, y’all.
*Sometimes “ubiquitous” is code for “evil, garden-stalking weed.” Again, it’s all about the perspective.
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