Green

Michigan is a green place in summer, a realization that only came to me after once spending three weeks (of my 10th summer) in Phoenix. Returning home, the very air seemed green, trees and grass, weeds and moss, cool and rainy and easy to breathe in. I forgot the mucky fug of the humidity, the moldy pollen choked atmosphere of August, algae smeared waterways. The Detroit River, mostly brownish, appeared deep grey green some days. I would miss that greenness in Salt Lake City, which only has about a month in spring where it goes ovewhelmingly green. The hot summer bakes out the color, and smoky air dulls the vibrance. Boston only looses it's green to snow, so I feel more at home here.

I did not chose green, although it was my mother's favorite color, or at least the color she thought looked best on a redhead. She sewed many of her own clothes, many were pale green. The carpet in their house was green, which sounds bad, but actually was very pleasant. The year they painted the walls Celery was dreadful, however.

I had a velvet jumper when I was nine, with embroidered bodice, lovely deep forest. I have a leotard in an ugly dull green that I got on sale. I own not another stitch of green. I did not glaze my pottery green. Mostly, I only wore green when paid to do so. BDU (battle dress uniform)s were camouflage dirt and leaf, horrid on all but a very tiny minority. I ripped holes in the knees of all my pants due to running with the pack and losing my balance, landing in classic kid skinned knee position on the asphalt. Ow. And, again paid to do so, scrubs at my hospital were green, and I gladly wore them. Both uniforms were replaceable, and intended as work clothes, dirty work. I have gotten blood on both (mine only for the BDUs). Both were made for comfort, not for fashion. Utilitarian utterly. I could ignore the color. Irrelevant.

The first new car I ever bought, or we ever bought, was a dark, shiny green Neon. Wonderful color for a car, I always thought her beautiful. She got me to work for the better part of a decade. A friend is getting her in shape, running her for her gas mileage- rather than his truck. She was always a practical wee vehicle. I would not like to risk her in Boston traffic. Anyway, she is his now, fair trade for getting all our stuff to us, as well as innumerable rescues and acts of generous friendship. I hope she runs well, and greenly, for many years to come.

There is a distinct lack of green in our home. But there are touches, pens, books, D's one sweater, a pot of grass for the cat to eat. But we do have a green chair, bought (yes I know) on sale. OK, it has a blanket over it. I almost forgot about it.
But there is plenty outside, happily photosynthesizing. Practical color, easily overlooked, I wear it daily but forget I do. The ground color. Beyond being liked or disliked, green is just there, doing it's job.