It was about 10 a.m. Feb. 25 when I spotted the first crocus of the year. After the grayest, dreariest winter in recent memory, that little yellow blossom stirred my dormant gardening urges. Starved for color after the long winter, I started cutting back freeze-dried perennial foliage to expose emerging growth.

It's taken me most of March to clean up the garden. My muscles require long, hot baths to cope with the unaccustomed stretching and my hands are again calloused and scratched. It's good to be back in the garden.

The discovery of the first crocus was followed by an ever-growing chorus of the colorful little blossoms in beds and in the lawn, joined by snowdrops, glory-of-the-snow, Siberian squills, Oregon grape holly, early daffodils and Lenten roses. Each day there's a new discovery, as buds swell and perennials break the crust of the soil. Is there anything more glorious than a haze of hot pink crabapple blossoms, or a patch of purple grape hyacinths or a stand of Corvette red tulips? Spring provides exactly the antidote to a gloomy winter. Bring on the color.

Strangely enough, many people profess to hate certain colors. I've never understood this. I know one gardener who doesn't grow any yellow flowers and another who loathes orange. I once had a client who forbade pink flowers in her garden. When I asked her why, she replied, "I don't look good in pink."

"OK," I thought. "So don't sit in the flower bed."

Though I'm all for color schemes and themes in the garden, it saddens me that so many people have largely edited color out of their lives. Remember your first box of crayons? Every color was wonderful and exciting. I had one of the small boxes with 24 colors, but managed to trade my baseball glove to my friend Billy for his super-duper box with 200 crayons and a sharpener on the side. That box held magic, just waiting for my imagination to unleash it.

So when did we all start to edit colors out of our lives, systematically discarding crayons one by one? When did we become such a beige society?

As you plan your summer garden, attempt to break free from the indoctrination you've received about color. And forget the infamous color wheel. It's useless as a garden tool since we always start with a background of green. I can, however, offer advice on combining colors that I've devised since my first box of crayons.

Put colors of equal value together. For example, group jewel tones together. Crimson, purple, deep golden yellow, sapphire blue, coral and tangerine glow against an emerald green backdrop. Pastel colors, such as paler hues of pink, cream, butter yellow, Wedgwood blue and lavender look their best together. This system works equally well in pots, beds and borders.

In an interesting development, English gardeners - long associated with terribly tasteful pastel gardens - recently have fallen all over themselves creating the gaudiest horticultural concoctions. They call them "American" or "California" gardens.

As a gaudy American gardener, perhaps your border color scheme is no longer based on your original plan but has devolved into simply what's left. And then you've patched the holes haphazardly. You have some digging to do, and you're not alone. I, too, have some borders that have disintegrated artistically.

My April is going to be spent editing. I'll select what needs to stay in each area, remove the "patches" and redevelop a color theme. The rejects will go in a temporary holding bed in the vegetable garden until I find a suitable spot for them. Don't think it hasn't occurred to me to plant a "reject border," though I'm afraid it might turn out as well as one of the borders I actually planned. At least it'll be colorful.

If you've been horticulturally beige for too long - ignoring wonderful colors that you discarded from your crayon box when you were 6 - break free from those prejudices. Make it a point to buy a hot pink bougainvillea, a bright yellow daylily or a screaming orange dahlia this year.

Rob Proctor's new book, "Gardening on a Shoestring," is available in bookstores.