how I want you green

We're emerging from the gray one color at a time. First, and fabulously, there is green. Green everywhere, glowing, growing, verdant. It's the only color there is right now, today.


What color is your world?

Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. 

~Federico García Lorca

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the prime color of the world

It started raining Friday, and didn't finish until some time late Sunday night. I spent the entire weekend in and around the house, venturing out into the wet when the dogs needed to go, wandering around and peering at all the green. The soft wet pat, pat, pat of rain made a peaceful, friendly melody. 

Every leaf and tree seemed lit from within with a steady green glow that came in the windows and made the house all green and glowy too. 

I  must have lived in the city far too long - I'd nearly forgotten how easily and thoroughly I'm enchanted by rain and leaves and dirt, and the thick gray sky, and the smell of wet wood.

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Green is the prime color of the world, 

and that from which its loveliness arises. 

~ Pedro Calderon de la Barca

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the trees are blooming

Charles Stewart Parnell (27 June 1846 – 6 October 1891) was an Irish Protestant landowner, nationalist political leader, land reform agitator, and the founder and leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party. He is also a distant cousin, a leaf on a twig on a branch of my family tree.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

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Oh, the summertime is coming
And the trees are blooming
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather

From "Wild Mountain Time (Traditional Irish)

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in a room that is gray

Blue sky, gray trees, pale green buds, white snow -

Spring is coming:

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Although you sit in a room that is gray, 

Except for the silver
Of the straw-paper,
And pick
At your pale white gown;
Or lift one of the green beads
Of your necklace,
To let it fall;
Or gaze at your green fan
Printed with the red branches of a red willow;
Or, with one finger,
Move the leaf in the bowl--
The leaf that has fallen from the branches of the forsythia
Beside you...
What is all this?
I know how furiously your heart is beating.

- Gray Room by Wallace Stevens

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