Greetings - some of you may know that I run a second (and much neglected) 'wordy' blog as well as my photo-blog.
This is the opening section of a new post:
"There are times when all I remember of my dreams is the colour green. Neither detail nor narrative survives my awakening, but a colour does. And even that is not entirely true, for no single colour represents the green of my dreams. I would not be able to stand in front of the walls of colour swatches, beloved by paint manufacturers and often raided by my daughter, and say, ‘That one. That’s the green from my dreams’. It’s not the livid lime green of Ash trees, spring fresh, growing on grey northern limestone. It’s not the sheened English Racing Green of ivy, inch-by-inch destroying my fence, or smothering a building. It’s not the smoky blue-green of Gum trees, fire prone and sweating oils in the summer sun.
This is the opening section of a new post:
"There are times when all I remember of my dreams is the colour green. Neither detail nor narrative survives my awakening, but a colour does. And even that is not entirely true, for no single colour represents the green of my dreams. I would not be able to stand in front of the walls of colour swatches, beloved by paint manufacturers and often raided by my daughter, and say, ‘That one. That’s the green from my dreams’. It’s not the livid lime green of Ash trees, spring fresh, growing on grey northern limestone. It’s not the sheened English Racing Green of ivy, inch-by-inch destroying my fence, or smothering a building. It’s not the smoky blue-green of Gum trees, fire prone and sweating oils in the summer sun.
The dream green feels calm, but not passive. It’s alive and moving, but so far it’s never
been frightening. Other things do wake
me in fright, spiders mainly or loud voices in darkened rooms; but not colours. The green is neither a distinct memory nor an
unspoken wish, but it feels like both. I
think it’s leaflight rather than sunlight.
I think it’s the reflected light of a million woodland walks. Or long
summer afternoons, doing nothing in fields busy with crickets. It’s the ghost of dampened moss, clinging in
mist to the dwarf forests, high on Mt. Gower. It might even come from kelp,
thrown on to the beach by wind and waves, adding a flavour of brown to the
green, and bringing with it a hint of uncertainty."
If you have the time and inclination, I'd love you to pop over and read the rest: You can click on the "My Other Blog" tab at the top of the page. Or you can just click here. Cheers, SM
hari OM
ReplyDeleteAm hopping on over! YAM xx
Hi Stewart: Sometime over the next few days I will do this. The bit you give us has already piqued my interest.
ReplyDeleteI have both your blogs listed on my blog list so if there's anything new, I know about it. I'll be reading it for sure.
ReplyDeleteInteresting, will pop over there tomorrow. Cheers Diane
ReplyDeleteBeautiful Stewart..My favorite colors..BTW...We call it " British Racing Green".I should put your other blog on my blog list..
ReplyDeleteI have been a very bad friend and have not been over to enjoy your writing blog in quite some time. I do remember that I was so impressed with your wonderful writing style when I first discovered it! I promise to go there more often now.
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