This is maple tree bark, up close and personal in all its majestic grayness. It looks like woodpeckers have gotten up close and personal as well, judging from the holes. (Journal photo by Christie Mastric)

Finding beauty in a drab world can be challenging. Here in the Upper Peninsula, the color green is late to appear outdoors, and when it does, it often is mixed with snow white — literally — even as late as June.

November, March and April tend to be my least favorite months. At least January and February have snow, which if left dotted on trees and not on my driveway is pretty. May has shrubbery blossoms, some of which have the bonus of a nice fragrance.

June, July and August have lush greenery and wildflowers, not to mention the warm weather, and September and October have spectacular autumn colors, which happen to be my favorite color scheme.

Speaking of autumn trees, I don’t even mind when red oak acorns from my neighbors’ property fall on our deck, although I suspect the drivers of the cars down the street — on which acorns fall too — aren’t as forgiving.

They do, however, make a nice pinging noise.

On the other hand, November, March and April don’t have much going for them aesthetically. Even the conifer trees that retain their green needles look better when contrasted with snow. Now we have dirty snow piles everywhere that contain hidden treasures such as winter-ripened flattened beer cans, cigarette butts and Twinkie wrappers.

So, I’ve learned to appreciate the color gray and all its subtleties. If I didn’t, the dreaded gray months could crush my soul.

A gray sky can be an ominous gray, as in the case of an approaching storm. I love thunderstorms, so in this way, gray is a thrilling color. Unfortunately, these storms tend to go north and south of Marquette for some meteorological reason, and I often have a disappointed look on my face as I look out my window.

An added bonus of the elusive ominous sky is lightning, which adds a profound effect. Seeing as how I live in a no-storm subzone, sometimes I have to settle for quick flashes south of Marquette, which again I view with a disappointed face.

A sky also can be a pale gray, leaving me with a bit of unease. Will it rain? Will something bad happen, and in no way related to the cloud cover? It leaves me pondering.

Gray comes in tangible forms as well.

The gray color of a lot of local tree bark is nondescript but interesting. Since leaves cover up a lot of the bark during the Upper Peninsula’s short growing season, I can get a better look at it now and admire the different textures.

I don’t really have a “Favorite Tree Bark,” although I like the patterns of white oak bark, with their grooves and rectangular shapes — a truly groovy bark. Unfortunately, we don’t get white oaks up here.

I suppose I could buy some white oak wallpaper and wrap it around our dying maple tree, except the woodpeckers and nuthatches love that tree and the delicious meals hiding in the bark. Apparently, they don’t have a big problem with the color gray.

My new iPhone game, Ball Sort, involves putting different colors of balls into little test tubes. You can put a ball only on top of the same color of ball. It’s visually fun, with dark green, light green, yellow, dark pink, brown, orange, light blue, dark blue, purple — and gray — balls.

Apparently the makers of this game thought enough of gray to include it in their app, although when you’re fixated on finishing a game, the colors don’t matter as much in the long run as the big win.

Sometimes I add gray to my world on purpose. One of my favorite shirts is made from gray sweatsuit material but lined with lace. It’s a weird, polarizing effect, but it’s also very comfortable. Being typically a warm-weather top, I hope to soon wear it more often. If I see icebergs floating on Lake Superior, though, that might have to wait.

Maybe my least favorite version of gray is right on my head. I highlight my hair, but since I’m 62, more gray is appearing and it’s getting harder to hide. How I miss the brown-haired days of my 30s. Little did I know that someday I would be thrilled to have that color.

Although it’s probably a lame marketing idea, perhaps the Crayola people could come up with a whole palette of gray-only crayons: ominous storm gray, eerie pale gray, tree bark gray, Ball Sort gray, weird lacy top gray and Christie’s hair gray.

I’m willing to speak with the crayon people to discuss this further.