Even more than the sunshine, our friends south of the Mason Dixon line seem to be hording the crayons this time of year.
With mango tango sunrises, mountain meadow water, cerulean skies and jungle green palm trees places like Florida wrap their mitts around the 120 count box, while up here in the Midwest, we’re stuck with a couple fat stubs — white, black and gray.
That’s why a quick trip to Florida can be such a feast for the eyes. We pale Midwesterners emerge from southbound planes and cars squinting like Cool Hand Luke after 30 days in the box.
“The light! The light!”
We stumble around a little, slap on a thick layer of sunscreen, and venture forth.
That’s what I did anyway.
Following a morning rain, I grabbed my camera on our last day in Florida and went for a walk, giddy with the opportunity to document all of that color reflected in warm rain puddles.
I couldn’t bring the crayons home, though it’s always miraculous when the colors slowly find their way back to Wisconsin.
But, I did score a picture or two and, on dull, gray afternoons, I’ll close my eyes, draw back the curtain, to see for certain what I thought I knew…Florida and its amazing technicolor dreamcoat.