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Category: colors

Green Screen

Green Screen

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Yesterday, as I walked on one of my favorite Reston trails, I was struck by the shades and the depth of the green. The foliage was shockingly, gloriously green. The forest was a green screen onto which I could project all my sylvan dreams.

What is it about green that soothes and enchants? Is it something in the mechanisms of our eyes and skin that harken to this color? Did it represent the safety of the enclosure to our ancient kin? Is that why it seems so safe a hue?

Or does green work its magic because it’s the perfect contrast to the blueness of the sky?

No matter the reason, whether it’s biochemical or poetical. In early June, at least this early June, all the world seems a green screen.

Immortal Yarn

Immortal Yarn

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I’ve spent the morning with yarn. Spools and spools of it. Sage greens and sky blues, violets and aubergines. Yarn for placemats and scarves and table runners and blankets. Tapestry yarn and loom yarn. The textures and colors invite me to touch and imagine.

The yarn belonged to my dear friend Nancy, and now, through the kindness and connections of another friend, it will find a new home.

My experience with yarn is limited to amateurish crochet projects, but Nancy was a weaver extraordinaire. I’m so grateful that her work and her yarn will live on.

Shades of Green

Shades of Green

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How many shades of green do I see in a day at the beach. There is the dark forest of the mangrove, its roots in water, clustered in wet spots along the road. 

There is the purplish-green of the sea grape, its leaves catching light, making tunnels of shade as I exit the strand.

There is the striated green of the palmetto, wagging in the wind. 

And sometimes, in the morning, there is the green of the sea.

Black and White and Blue

Black and White and Blue

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A winter walk is monochromatic, color drained by sun and shadow, leaving only form and contrast behind. 

This was evident on my stroll yesterday through D.C., from Metro Center to Chinatown, then down Seventh to the Sculpture Garden, where I watched ice skaters fly by. They were a study in black and white, too.

From there I made my way to the Mall and the Monument, where I finally found color … in the sky. It seemed like an afterthought, though, as if it were crayoned onto an already printed page. 

The Standout

The Standout

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It’s a broad, bare expanse I see when I look out an upstairs window now. Tall, straight trunks sprouting tangles of limbs and branches — all  brown or gray or a shade yet unnamed that is their pairing( (bray?). 

If it’s a sunny day, add a splash of blue for the sky. If it’s not, then a lighter shade of gray for the firmament.

The eye, in this case, is drawn to the standouts, the few trees yet to lose their leaves. There’s only one of those left in the backyard — a shrub of some indeterminate breed. But what a thrill it is to spy its rich crimson. 

“Here I am,” it seems to shout. “All is not lost.” 

Naming Names

Naming Names

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The late-turning trees are giving us a final burst of color. In the front yard, the Kwanzan cherry has burst into a sunny yellow that matches its spring bloom for brightness and intensity.

In the backyard, the volunteer Japanese maple is outdoing itself: its bright scarlet hue shining in the sun that is just now touching the back fence.

Closer to the house, the black gum’s final leaves flutter like tiny, opalescent flags. Their color is a magnet, drawing the eye. As I look more closely, I see two young upstart black gums right behind the tall one. How is it that I’d never noticed this before, never used the fall color not just as inspiration but as information, another clue to naming names in the natural world?  

Brilliant Green

Brilliant Green

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I walked outside today into a world of green, all shades of green. Dark firs, emerald hedges and verdant lawns, lush and mower-striped. Weeds are greening too, but I chose to ignore them this morning.

The lawn is an English invention, and it rains all the time in England. So said a gardening expert we talked to in early March before purchasing lime and seed. The message was, don’t worry too much about your lawn; it will never look good.

But this year the weather has been English and lawns are greening accordingly. Ah, but it does a soul good to see a lawn stretching from house to street — a greensward, a tribute, an invitation to doff shoes and run through it.

I see the point of a cottage garden, of a wild and natural look. But there’s something about a lawn, too. And there especially seemed to be something about it this brilliant green morning.

August Greens

August Greens

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Who would think it possible that in this typically dry and dusty time of year we would have such a bounty of green?

On today’s walk I tried to revel in it, appreciate it. I tried to ignore the light rain that was falling even as I ambled.

It’s not the kind of summer I’m used to, but it’s the kind of summer we’ve got.

And so are the August greens.

Shades of Gray

Shades of Gray

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With apologies to those expecting a more salacious post … this one’s about my wardrobe. It’s about the gray skirts and the gray pants, the gray dress and the gray sweater.  It’s about the sweatshirts, all three of them, all gray.

And then there are there are the gray turtlenecks; I have a few of those, too, one dark, one light, one striped and one emblazoned with “U.K.” Dad sent the latter one to Claire in hopes she would go to the University of Kentucky for college. She went to George Mason instead — and I kept the turtleneck.

I like the color gray; it’s soft and neutral,  a worthy alternative to black. But I’m starting to feel … a little grayed out.  Pinks and purples and fuchsias are looking good these days.

Maybe it’s a midwinter thing, or a midlife thing. … But I could use some color!

Spring Green

Spring Green

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While I was gone the azaleas popped and trees reached a critical leafing point. Now when I look out the back windows, I see green.

I didn’t see green at the beach. I saw light blue skies and delicate, cream-colored sea foam. I saw pale brown eel grass dried and husky. I saw the occasional flash of scarlet from cardinals and red-winged blackbirds. But in general the beach palette was decidedly pastel.

Today’s still rain-drenched backyard is anything but. In fact, it’s edging toward primary color intensity. What a nice view to come home to!