I am, for whatever reason, interested in colors. There is nothing driving that as far as I can tell. It just seems that my thoughts are tending to the expression of emotions and thoughts in terms of the hues of the spectrum.
It is also true that the completed green landscape of summer is arrived at only after the passage through springtime. I love the springtime in this part of the country best of all. Springtime arrives so very quietly, with just a whisper of verdant tinges here and there. It starts off low, near to the ground, climbing by inches up winter dark boughs. In the very early days of spring, it is common to think you see that hint of emerald, only to be disappointed when you turn your head to actually look. Somewhere, unseen, the impressionist painter works, day by day, to add shades of sage and mint and lime and kelly and seafoam.
Spring green signals the end of the long, gray, bitter days of winter. Spring brings me, always, into the closing days of the school year, when all the long weeks of planning and delivering all the myriad lessons begin to come to an end, and hopefully fruition. The days lengthen and the breezes grows soft and mild. Neighbors and neighbors' children come out and walk and play around the grounds. The young ones, show the growth from the winter, and there are smiles and greetings on the air. Even as new buds open in the warming sun, our lives open up more in the gentle days of spring. Everything seems possible, and all of us are green and new in this season.
For a woman no longer young, it is good to be reminded that all things come around, again and again, into this green time of the year.