The Fridays just keep coming, and this one's a bit of a doozy. But the baby's napping, and the preschooler's in the bathroom with a good ten-minutes worth of toys. I'll leave him to man-cave for a least another five.
More information on the glory that is Five Minute Friday, along with a list of brave five-minute creations, can be found here.
This week's prompt: paint.
I awoke this morning to grey-painted skies. Gloom in the kitchen belying the dawn. I brewed a cup of Russian Caravan tea, and mused on the journey of its flavours: tea leaves grown in China, smoked over pine-wood campfires warming caravaners bound for the court of the czar, simulated and shipped to my local grocery store, brewed in my own kitchen. I flavour it with maple syrup from Quebec and cream from an Albertan dairy collective. Half a world of flavours, each adding its own layer of depth, light, sweetness, swirled into the canvas of my cup.
I read a novel recently that featured a painter. She described painting a scene from her own backyard, soothed by the focus of dividing what seems like solid colours into the myriad of micro-shades it takes to reproduce them. Layer upon layer, a little black, a little white, swirling to create the canvas of a plain blue sky.