I've never been a lover of orange in the garden.  Soft pinks, blues, creams, purples, and greens color my first gardens. But now I'm in love with orange . The sneeze weed blooms without fail this summer, sturdy and yet majestic-
draws in butterflies and hummingbirds and keeps me entranced with its relentless spirit. I love the way it mixes with the pinks and purples and leans to kiss the rock stream bed. Orange led me to exotic reds and yellows.  How much I really love it surprises me.  Now I find myself gravitating to shades of orange in clothes, furnishings, foods.  A sort of sifting has happened. 

You will always find your place. How do you do that? Especially if you're the creative type. Pamela Druckerman, an opinion writer and author of books about French parenting, gives some advice which I like to follow. You might,  too.

1. Stay in the moment - walking, riding the metro, drinking coffee in a cafe, looking out the window-get a little bored so you'll get new ideas. (stay away from electronics) Ditto.
2. Figure out the best time of day for you to work. ( this may vary for me , depending on the light or my energy.)
3. Always have something to read, or carry a notebook.  ( I like a small light-weight notebook or index cards.)
4. Expect maybe the first attempt may not be what you want. (or I think it might be pretty great sometimes.)
5. Everything is potential for inspiration.  ( really anything.)
6. Pay attention to what you do on the side-- (now I lead workshops on creative writing and write when I used to dream of writing while teaching high school)
7. Give into your own creative process. (mine can be in bursts of energy)
8. Celebrate a peak moment. (maybe a piece of  your writing you think works, a great meal you made, a lovely evening ,  or a realization)

Celebrate your creative spirit.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/31/opinion/sunday/how-to-find-your-place-in-the-world-after-graduation.html?_r=0

Do you know the poem "Blackberry Eating"by Galway Kinnell?  If you don't, read it. I couldn't help but think of it as I picked and ate my way down prickly rows of blackberries on a recent hot summer morning. I taste tested first the thorn- less ones. They were good and juicy and easy to reach, but oh the thorny ones ...the musky wet sweetness almost magic fell onto my tongue " as words sometimes do... black language of blackberry-eating."