Yellow is not one of my favorite colors. It's partly vanity. I can't wear it. It doesn't match my olive skin. It's partly that it's too yellow. This made sense to me when I heard a story once about a man who was born sightless asked people to describe colors. When he had surgery to restore his eyesight he is said to say, "yellow is really very yellow." This makes sense to me. Yellow is really very yellow.
When spring came to Ofunato and Rikuzentakata I felt I was being bombarded by yellow. Daffodils, tulips, freesia are all yellow. Then come the dandelions. I don't know what it is about these flowers and the yellowness of them--it bothered me. I recognize part of my frustration at the color yellow was the fact nature seemed to resurrect itself in the midst of chaos and devastation. This seemed too unfair. The other part of my frustration was how vibrant all this yellowness was. I can't explain this. I felt bombarded by yellow that was very yellow and very real.
This kind of yellow, this kind of "flower" (a weed, really) I like. The ability of this dandelion plant to grow out of a concrete wall from a drainage system--this personifies the unstoppable ability of nature to come back with resolve and stubbornness. This, I like. This kind of yellow is good.
I'm not sure this makes a lot of sense. Having had difficulty expressing myself over the past six weeks I'm grasping at metaphors and symbolism in ways I never have before and perhaps this is all a bit odd to you. It does make sense to me. I want to be like the dandelion that pops out of places nature isn't supposed to be. If I have to wear yellow to do this, bring it on.