Pink Doughnut

(In lieu of a photo of a pink doughnut, I have a photo of a pink plant. Not the same thing, I know. I get it.)

I had a dream about a doughnut last night. More specifically, a chocolate cake doughnut with pink frosting. I gave it to a little girl (was it my niece Elliott? I do not know) and it was such a delicious treat I could almost taste it, but I didn't because the little girl ate it. And there weren't any doughnuts left. So, I didn't get one.

Sad story. The loss of a colourful, tasty doughnut. It is interesting because I would not normally want a pink frosted doughnut. When it comes to food, I am all about the simple things. When it comes to colours, I am an earth-toned girl. The bright colours do not fit me as well, even in doughnut form.  I wouldn't select something pink to eat. Those who know me well would say I am probably "mustard yellow".  Pink is not my colour, but can I appreciate pink? That made me think of a passage I had just read from The Little White Horse, by Elizabeth Goudge.

After all, though pink was not her favourite colour it was a colour, and, as Sir Benjamin had said, all colour is of the sun, and good. And pink is the colour of dawn and sunset, the link between day and night. Sun and moon alike ought both to love pink because when one is rising and the other setting they so often greet each other across an expanse of rosy sky.

I am changed. Perhaps now I may appreciate other colours much more deeply, especially pink.