This time of year in the west of Ireland, there appears a shade of green that is present at no other time and, I'd like to think, at no other no other place in the world. It shows up at the moment when the winds are high and the sea grows wild and fierce, fighting with the land for the control of the season.
It appears, not so much as a colour but as the intention of a colour, overlaying all the trees and hedge rows. The hint of green. Pale green. Transparent, opalescent, tender, baby green. It is barely discernible in the last long gray of Winter but it is there if you look. It holds the promise of things to come.
This morning as I was walking the dog past the tree house, I saw that the Christmas tree was now decorated with shamrock bulbs as I had hoped. The plastic snowman's little red beret was gone and his white bulb was replaced with a green one. Bright green, Kelly green. A green that I'd like to think appears at no other place and time. It is there if you look, cutting through the daylight savings time darkness and offering the promise of things to come.
This week in books 7/14/17 - This week! Books! But first, a programming note. Posts will be a bit sporadic in the next few weeks as I am headed to San Diego for the wonderment known ...
1 week ago