Romance brings a vast array of ideas and images to mind. Considering it, I found a definition I like.
Romance: an emotional attraction or aura belonging to an especially heroic era, adventure, or activity.
(Aura is an awesome word that is too seldom used.)
In this sense, I've always been romantic. I love that aura. I've always dreamed of ivy-covered walls, old-fashioned houses, gazebos, paths through the woods, bubbling brooks; wished I could have an imaginary friend (I attempted once, but you can't force yourself), go to Prince Edward Island, live in a Secret Garden type of house, ride in carriages; and loved old books, barns, dressing up, wearing skirts, attics, letters, ribbons, neat old fonts...
But as Anne said, "I have come to the conclusion that it is no use trying to be romantic in Avonlea. It was probably easy enough in towered Camelot hundreds of years ago, but romance is not appreciated now."
And if one cannot be romantic on Prince Edward Island, in a little town with places like the White Way of Delight and old cemeteries while people still used horses for transportation, it's pretty much hopeless now.
But as Matthew advised, "Don't give up all your romance, Anne...a little of it is a good thing--not too much of course--but keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of it."
Ideally, what comes to my mind for romance is a picture of the very wrinkly hands of an old couple. This wasn't practical, however. Trying to think of something available that was old, my mind traveled towards the barn-but stopped at something in the bathroom on the way.
It wasn't what I was imagining, but it would work: the bouquet from the wedding I was in last year.
I had fun playing with the colors.
Of course, black and white is always romantic.
But in this case, I thought the color was more.
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