equinoxial green

I bet there are amazing things a person could write—

—about the color green.¹

The words would of course be profound—

—verdant with wisdom—

—and filled with enlightened and energizing equinoxial ideas.

At the very least they might contain the odd Saint Patrick’s Day tune reference.²

But today this wondrous hue gets to extoll ki’s own virtues.

Of course it already does given that most colors speak for themselves without needing permission from a mere human.

Much less a bunch of words.

But I am a mere human so feel like I should use words even when it might be more natural (at least just now), to become a kind of chroma myself.

For after being being away for several days,³ eating, drinking, chatting, knitting, laughing and spinning (as one sometimes gets to do)⁴—

—I find myself more than a little befuddled—

—as I settle into the place I now call home.

But even if I can’t be green or indigo, I can bow to the wisdom of the luscious paints that greeted me from the mailbox when arrived back at my little brown house.⁵

For there were four new greens to add to the well-used and embarrassingly messy ones with whom I’ve been documenting my days.

And a party of purples to help show them off.

So—new house, town, paint, and pullover. How on earth to begin?

Well, perhaps on the earth.

And for that, I’ll need to don the sweater, put my feet on the ground, unbuckle the leash, and see if I can feel what the colors have to say.

1. Actually Kassie St. Clair has written many such wondrous and surprising words in The Secret Lives Of Color. As, from a different point of view have Robin Wall Kimmerer in Gathering Moss, and my clever dog Beryl when she took over The Gusset a few weeks ago.

2. Grey Cormo fleece spun sometime around 2008: 3 ply (z/s); alum/weld/indigo; knit into a reversible knee length shift and worn but not as much as I expected; raveled Nov. 2024; re-knit (top down raglan, no particular pattern but lots of positive ease and much essential mid-move soothing) Dec/Jan/Feb/March 2024/25;

3. Yes, my baritone concertina and I were actually in a real recording studio on the equinox, experimenting with rhythmic chordal backup for someone else’s project. The concertina sounded great and the fact that the point was the glorious sound of the reeds rather than my amateur musical skill, helped me relax into the pleasures of the sounds and the new experience.

Also— though the studio was that of someone with whom I’ve often played Irish tunes, none were on the menu that day.

4. Also not sleeping cuz travel, no Beryl (dogs are not allowed and I’ve not slept without her since this selfsame group gathered last November), and because it’s hard to be with nine brilliant, stimulating, beloved and thoughtfully creative people for several days and not get a teensy bit wound up!

5. My astonishing friend K. Jodi Gear makes these watercolors—gathering, grinding, mixing, designing—and for the last six or seven years they are the only paints I’ve used to color my comics. (How ever did I get so lucky?). Happily for us all, she documents and generously shares her process and insights (in both paint and image making), so if you want to dip your toe or immerse yourself in a lake (pun intended) of color, check out these links. YouTube; Instagram; Website .