Yellow is unsightly in large amounts...it can be grossly overwhelming.
Washed out or pale, it is lovely, like the warm glow of candlelight on a tablecloth.
Yellow is a jealous tyrant, dominating and enslaving the eye. One must exert authority over its unruliness, rationing it to small portions. Take for instance, the sun. To our eyes it is minimized to a tiny, pretty yellow dot in the sky. Maybe God's way of telling us to use yellow sparingly was to fling that burning ball far away from the earth.
In small portions, yellow is sunshine (literally) and happiness. Like my yellow Mary Janes. They peep out from under my jeans like shy little canaries, the one on the right with a childish appliqué sun stitched on, a reminder of how the Creator uses His pallet.
I think Emily Dickenson says it best. And I found this poem after I wrote this, so it was just that much more perfect.
Nature Rarer Uses Yellow
by Emily Dickenson
Nature rarer uses Yellow
Than another Hue.
Saves she all of that for Sunsets
Prodigal of Blue
Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly
Like a Lover's Words.