the sixth year of Forms ... As ever, I wondered at points during last year whether this would be It; whether five years of successive entries would be time to Call It A Day; whether it would be a sheer relief not to have to find something to take a picture of, to write about ... and at the same time, I know that I'd miss it. I had all kinds of wildly ambitious ideas about shifting things a little for this year; of educating myself - not so much this time around about photographic theory, as was the case five years ago, but about color ... my thought was to take a color a month, and work around it. If this is true, it looks as though January is yellow.
This doesn't work in some ways for me: I have (is that the right verb?) synaesthesic tendencies, and January is, or ought to be, green. February is yellow. I realize, thinking about this, that I don't see months in colors as vividly as I do days of the week, or letters, or numbers. I'll come back to this as a topic ... If January is yellow (and I mightn't follow this one through; it's the year's beginning, it's tentative) this is because I couldn't resist taking a picture of this metallic sheepy, a Christmas present from my parents, sitting happily in the pale yellow morning sunshine in the alcove on our chimney breast.
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