The skies outside are grey. The wind blows. The leaves whirl in pale yellow and brown flurries to the ground as I gratefully curl under my warm blanket behind double glazed glass windows, protected from the storm. Glancing across the street I see the building across from us with it’s amazing vines clawing their way up the side of the building. Their leaves are not pale yellow or brown, but rather bright red. Fresh blood red. Vamp lipstick red. Like raw veins they reach across the building looking like strange, red raw external neurons of the building itself. Wearing it’s brain on the outside. Scarlet pathways searching, reaching, prying, clinging to survival as the winds blow and the rains try to lash them from their precarious hold. Tenacious in a storm. Blazing red in a sea of grey – grey skies, grey concrete, grey city, grey season, grey mood. I’m drawn to this red again and again. How unapologetic it is for being so loud, so bright, so resilient in the face of this grey stormy day. Of course it won’t last forever, and eventually those bright scarlet flares will also fade and fall and all that will be left over winter will be the bare brown pathways, waiting for the spring sun to bring warmth and growth and renewal. But for now, this blaze of colour gives me hope in this grey world. I want to be this way. Tenacious and bright, clinging to a concrete wall in spite of everything with tiny, myriad hooks. I want to not be fazed by the stormwinds screeching past, trying to pry my fingers loose. I want to know when to retreat and wait for spring. And then I want to bloom again, bigger, brighter and stronger than last year.