Katherine Nicolai

A color walk could be a solemn, moving meditation, or a jolly game of I spy. Moment to moment, it could be both.

And in the spring, as the world leapt into color, opportunities to notice, to pay calm attention would abound. I set my plate and cup in the sink and went to a drawer in my desk with an idea.

And in the spring, as the world leapt into color, opportunities to notice, to pay calm attention would abound. I set my plate and cup in the sink and went to a drawer in my desk with an idea.

And in the spring, as the world leapt into color, opportunities to notice, to pay calm attention would abound. I set my plate and cup in the sink and went to a drawer in my desk with an idea.

I wanted a way to pick a color for today without getting caught in an internal debate about which would be best. Sometimes, even when a decision didn't really matter, I could slip into a loop of comparing and rethinking.

I wanted a way to pick a color for today without getting caught in an internal debate about which would be best. Sometimes, even when a decision didn't really matter, I could slip into a loop of comparing and rethinking.

I wanted a way to pick a color for today without getting caught in an internal debate about which would be best. Sometimes, even when a decision didn't really matter, I could slip into a loop of comparing and rethinking.

This walk was meant to be a way to rest that part of myself. So I needed to do something like flip a coin or roll a color die. From my drawer, I took out a familiar yellow and green box.

This walk was meant to be a way to rest that part of myself. So I needed to do something like flip a coin or roll a color die. From my drawer, I took out a familiar yellow and green box.

This walk was meant to be a way to rest that part of myself. So I needed to do something like flip a coin or roll a color die. From my drawer, I took out a familiar yellow and green box.

The big one with the sharpener on the back that I'd treated myself to. on my last trip to the stationery store. I closed my eyes and flipped the top open, letting my fingers trail over the waxy tips of the crayons.

The big one with the sharpener on the back that I'd treated myself to. on my last trip to the stationery store. I closed my eyes and flipped the top open, letting my fingers trail over the waxy tips of the crayons.

The big one with the sharpener on the back that I'd treated myself to. on my last trip to the stationery store. I closed my eyes and flipped the top open, letting my fingers trail over the waxy tips of the crayons.

They'd come organized, of course.

They'd come organized, of course.

They'd come organized, of course.

but I was in the habit of pulling them out by the handful as I used them, and sticking them back in willy-nilly. So I truly had no idea even what family of color I might pull.

but I was in the habit of pulling them out by the handful as I used them, and sticking them back in willy-nilly. So I truly had no idea even what family of color I might pull.

but I was in the habit of pulling them out by the handful as I used them, and sticking them back in willy-nilly. So I truly had no idea even what family of color I might pull.

My finger stopped on one, and I slid it from the pack. I paused to feel where the wax met the paper, how it was peeled back a bit from when I'd sharpened it last. I wondered if it would be a yellow, which I would spot in every daffodil and yield sign, or a shade of blue like the sky today. But when I finally blinked my eyes open,