image: lionheartherbs

image: lionheartherbs

Impossibly blue.  Blue that runs in rivulets, coursing from east to west in a great splash of vibrancy that covers every pin-prick, every divot, every crease in the old, chipped, and here and there, crumbling plaster walls.  The blue bleeds into the carpet where the walls touch the floor and seeps into the dirty, dusty old fibers like the coursing in of the tide until it reaches where I stand and begins to paint my toes, creeping up.

I’m very curious.  What will this blue do?  I have no idea where it will stop.  Will it mingle with the blood in my veins that give hints of bluish lines under the skin?  I’m not sure I want to change all of my tint.  What if it covers so well that those varicose vein spots of dark blue spread and cover up the rest of my skin color?  I am breathless.  I gulp.  I’ll be a walking Blue Woman.

How do they breathe?  How will I catch and hold to life if all my pores are mucked tight in slime that shines so bright I’ve become flashing neon?  Why, they could paint adverts on me and make a dime perhaps.

I’m struck suddenly with a worse scenario that grabs tighter at my lungs and leaves me deep sucking for air.  I might just blend into the walls and carpet and sky and vast eternity where unseen I will be lost to float without notice amid the halls of time, perhaps bouncing erratically through hazy dimensions, mossy and mysterious, ever seeking, ever yearning, ever longing to find permanence, to stand-out, to have some effect, to leave behind a tombstone written with words of wit and wisdom beyond the simple description, She Was Blue.

Not that blue per se is bad.  Blue is the color of a clear sky, the color of the notes of a jazz horn, the color of an ink, the color that happily announces the birth of a baby boy.

The clunk-splat sound of the paint brush hitting the tipped over paint-can brings me back to the bedroom painting project.  Two and a half walls done, two and a half to go.

I stand in the center of the room, no make-up, hair pulled up in a sloppy pony-tail, the nose piece of the protective glasses irritating the side of my nose, wearing paint-stained cut-offs and one of Sam’s old tee shirts, the ancient carpeting serving as a drop-cloth, the used-up can of paint at my feet, and in my ear, the ipod sound of the weather report of another blast of frozen Arctic Air that is turning everywhere in the United States, except us here in the far western states, blue with cold. I grab a paper towel, wipe the dot of blue off my big toe and reach for a new can of paint.

“Hey,” Sam comes through the open door, briefcase still in one hand, “you went with blue.”

He walks to my side, leans his head to mine and gives me a peck on the cheek, making sure to get nowhere near the paint stained shirt, “Does that mean it’s a boy?”

“Time will tell,” I smile and concentrate on prying the lid off the new paint can.  If I look too long in his eyes, he’ll see into my blue morass.

“I love how brave you are,” he says, walking back to the door, “giving up your meds so our baby will be healthy.  I knew you could do it,” he smiles, pulls off his tie and leaves the room.

I stir the paint, pick up the brush and start painting.  The frozen blue ice in the can melts into blue paint as it meets the wall.


Color me Home

Teal? Turquoise? Sea foam green? What color decorative pillows to choose for the new décor? The sofa is the color of a warm sandy beige and



the hardwood floors are light oak, so teal or turquoise or sea-foam green, any of the three will work as the accent color. The choices are distinct yet often have minute differences. Sea Foam Green with just a touch more blue in this decorative pillow than that one and you have teal. Or just a touch more of brightness to the teal on that decorative pillow and you have turquoise. Then there are two decorative pillows marketed as turquoise, but side by side, one is slightly duller and it looks more teal than turquoise. It’s subtle these differences. All on the same side of the color wheel or the arc of the rainbow, yet teal is not turquoise nor is it sea-foam green. And turquoise is not teal nor is it sea-foam green and sea-foam green is not teal nor is it turquoise.

They are all blue with green in them, but they are not a pale blue or a dark blue or a cornflower blue or a baby blue or a navy blue or a levi jeans blue or a royal blue or a slate blue or an Azure blue.

And they are not green. Not a jade green or a summer green or a moss-green or a spring green or a forest green or army green or an apple green or a split pea soup green. In fact, next to green they aren’t green at all. And next to blue, they aren’t blue at all.

Neither are they purple; not any shade of purple – not lavender or violet or amethyst or lilac or orchid or indigo or plum or mauve.
They are their own colors. They are teal and turquoise and sea-foam green. They are rich and deep and distinct in their hues. I close my eyes after staring at samples and color charts and catalogues and in my dreams the teal and turquoise and sea-foam green swirl around me; they lift me up, they carry me out beyond the city, we rise above the mountain’s height and we float past the greens of the Amazon forest and across the green Hawaiian islands in their ocean of blue.

The teal and turquoise and sea-foam green and I glide over the Amalfi coast and its Azure Sea. We fly slowly over the endless horizon of the sand of the Sahara, my teal and turquoise and sea-foam green shining bright and brilliant in contrast. We dip like clouds over the icy white of the Antarctic’s mountainous icebergs and continue on, constantly moving. My teal and turquoise and sea-foam green and I push our way through low-lying clouds across Great Britain where we emerge to skim across the emerald-green hills and valleys of Ireland.

Eventually, my teal and turquoise and sea-foam green and I return to sunny Southern California where the wild golden poppies on the rolling hills of the high desert and the brilliant scarlet Bougainvillea blooms in the yards alongside the freeway call us back to earth and when I open my eyes, the teal and turquoise and sea-foam have floated to their rest here in the house where they bring life and light and color. Teal and turquoise and sea-foam green. Which one? Or all? Teal for the decorative pillows and the lap rug on the sofa; turquoise for the dishes in the cabinet; sea-foam green for the tile accents and the towels in the bathroom; all beautiful colors, not blue and not green, but to me they define the colors of home. Teal and Turquoise and Sea Foam green.