Image: 'Sunset 3' by cooee
Winter is only snow white in hopes, and imagination, and advertising (which lives off the previous two). In reality people say winter is grey, because the truth is that we get grey slush, not snow; grey skies, not blue; grey sea, not green; grey faces, not tans.
Grey isn't my winter colour though. It's orange. The bleeding farewell of the sun watered across the darkening sky as a backdrop to wrapped up days (in both senses of the phrase). Not just a backdrop, but actively pouring from the sky, Irn Bru bright, rays of fluorescence that cast long shadows on snow and grass. Pumpkin orange that makes everything unreal like a living sepia memory, a place of imagination; a shadowed cast of colour that makes me believe I can be a child again.