Blue

In the Spring, we drive up to Brenham or over to San Antonio or even to Waco. The destination doesn't really matter. The reason for our journey may be found on either side of the highway.

Bluebonnets. Masses and masses of bluebonnets.

Here and there we see the red spikes of the Indian paintbrushes and the yellow of the ubiquitous flowers. They add to the joy of the day.

Thank you, Lady Bird.

I love the different names of blue.

Two of the most popular shades, royal and navy, derive from human institutions.

But midnight, cornflower, blueberry, ocean, sky, and periwinkle come from nature.

We are surrounded by blue.

And the colour of fire is yellow. Yellow and white and sparks flying.

Drawn as angry red and orange and yellow flames consuming a house in a child's drawing.

But you can see blue in fire if you look.

Blue fire. Blue flame. Blue heat. Blue desire.

The blue steals up your spine and shivers into your brain. Even if you are standing ten feet apart. Even if you are on another continent.

Blue is a hot colour.

Far out in the ocean the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as clear as the purest glass. But it is very deep too.


(The Little Mermaid, Hans Christian Andersen)

When I was a little girl, my mother always dressed me in blue. She said it brought out the blue in my eyes. I wore dresses all the time and my hair was pulled back into two ponytails.

When I was a young woman, I wore browns and greens and blacks. On the farm, I wore jeans. I bought pantsuits in the city and wore them to college classes and to teaching. My hair took no fussing except for keeping it trimmed above my collar.

But now that I am old, I find blue creeping back into my wardrobe once again. I've rediscovered the joy of skirts. My hair, though streaked with gray and silver, reaches to the middle of my back.

Cycles of life and appearance.

Today the blue letters run along my inner arm, from just above the bend of my elbow to my wrist. Sometimes the message is longer; sometimes it is shorter.

Yes, the words change each day, and often the shade of blue as well. Sometimes a pen, sometimes a brush, sometimes a finger dipped in body paint draw the lines and curves that form the letters. But a tattoo would never do. It couldn't evolve with the quicksilver of his mind and his imagination.

^116

Blue's a nice color, don't get me wrong. I like blue, but blue and green, oh yeah! When I see colors like teal, aquamarine and verdigris, I just get a hormone surge.

Violet and blue are the colors of jazz; the tones of singing saxophones, and smooth night-time joys of Miles, Coltrane and the gang.

Blue and Grey.

Colours which lie close and comfortable to each other in shades.

Blue shirts and grey suits.

Grey suits and blue ties.

But oh!

What a bloody difference between the two once!

There is no civility in red death.

forgiving the sky for being so very very blue...


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jevalenazdeth