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the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: color


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the colors of climate change. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

it was fuchsia the other morning.

dogga wakes us up quite early these days, so we generally see the sun rise out the east windows of our bedroom as we sip coffee. the other day it was fuchsia.

on the way out of the marina south of us a bit we drove west into the setting sun. the sky was copper and the sun was ringed with vermillion, countless other oranges on the spectrum striated in. it was like sherbet or hubbabubba, a rainbow-infused sky. each night and morning now it’s like fanta orange soda has come alive. it is quite the show.

but it shouldn’t be this way. it represents so much destruction by wildfire in our northern neighbor and it presents so much danger for anyone breathing this smoke-laden air.

we are watching the ever-growing effects of climate change – fires that are starting earlier, extending longer, more challenging, destroying millions of acres…this is “an objective truth“…higher temperatures, drier conditions are ripe for lightning strikes or human intention or error. the images of fires ravaging our own country are terrifying and the effects on wildlife and people are devastating.

so it is vivid. both the color spectrum of this threat and the threat itself.

it is distressing beyond belief and i agree with greta thunberg’s plea to mitigate this crisis: “panic, feel fear, and act!” i agree with leonardo dicaprio: “i believe humankind has looked at climate change … as if it were a fiction, happening to someone else’s planet, as if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away. climate change is not hysteria – it’s a fact.”

in our little way we try to do our part. we don’t overbuy. we shop to a list and a menu and use it all. we purchase vintage often, rather than newly-produced products. we recycle and reuse and repurpose as is possible. we are currently in the over-a-thousand-dollar mark – and still rising – of ensuring that littlebabyscion is emission-safe. we pay attention to our energy consumption and to the footprint we are leaving behind.

i would be perfectly happy with the “normal” sunrise, the “normal” sunset. the colors of those are exquisite and hard to wrap words around, the air of those easier to breathe, the colors of the wind less caustic. certainly less urgent, less critical, less of a tipping-tipping point.

the objective truths are all around us. we need pay heed.

“each and every one of us can make changes in the way we live our lives and become part of the solution [to climate change]. “ (al gore)

“the greatest danger to our future is apathy.” (jane goodall)

“the environmental protection agency (EPA) said this week it would revoke its own ability to fight climate change. it’s the latest move in an extraordinary pivot away from science-based protections.” (inside the ‘radical transformation’ of america’s environmental role – david gelles & maxine joselow – the new york times – august 3, 2025)

*****

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golden. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

on the southern part of the trail, most of the leaves have fallen. we shuffle through them, making that crunchy sound of autumn hikes. we can see further now – further down the trail, deeper into the woods. we can see the river, so often hidden by foliage. our views are unobstructed by earlier thick growth of underbrush and leafy trees.

the golden leaves cling to the willow. the sun catches them and they glow. i am grateful for their color and for this day of technicolor as november begins to push the need for more vitamin d. storm clouds rushed past, hinting at the possibility of pummeling us. yet the sun returned and we hiked on, glad to be out there, grateful to reclaim some air on the trail.

the days are darker now. and it makes me think of the many seasons of alone (the history channel) we have viewed, as moderate weather early in season episodes seemed to morph quickly into unthinkable cold, punishing loneliness, long darkness. we binged on alone during our month plus of covid. and as we hike now, we talk about the ability of the contestants to survive, to sustain. clueless about true survivalist skills, we both know we would likely fail miserably out in the wild – alone.

kielyn – season 7 – was out there for an unbelievable 80 days. a personality full of color, in one episode, she said, “women. we are a force to be reckoned with.”

yes. we are.

and even in the fallout of the fallout of this election, the fallout of the fallout of insane politics and a divided country, the fallout of the fallout of an agenda to kick women (among others) to the ground, we are still a force. she is right.

the lush leaves of spring, summer and early fall blocked what you could see in the woods, past the woods. they blocked long vision.

until they didn’t.

it was in the falling of the leaves on-trail that one could again see. it is in that clearing out, the storm threatening, winter on its way, that one can see further – beyond just existing, beyond just surviving, beyond just sustaining – further – to a place where thriving is an imperative. it is heading into fallow that any bit of color stands out, interrupts the grey.

because we women are out here. and no clearing-out, no storm, no winter will stop us.

long vision is one of the plates we women spin.

we aren’t afraid of a time of fallow.

and we sure aren’t afraid of the dark.

we are a force. you will have to reckon with us.

if the willow has lost all its leaves, we will bring the color.

and it will be our golden moment.

*****

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these pinks. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

there was a period of time in recent years during which i obsessed over this color. i distinctly remember an ipad cover that was this color, up in the apple store in milwaukee. i didn’t even have an ipad but i stood and stared at its vibrancy, telling d that were i to have one, i would buy this cover – in this color.

eventually, i satisfied my desire to haaaave this color and bought a cloth handmade drawstring backpack from an artist seamstress. this gorgeous poppy-coral color is the background color in the floral fabric. i call it my happy bag.

this pink. it’s a spectrum of happy. it brings me back to tiny bibbed overalls and ruffled dresses, hair pretties and polkadot shorts. it is watermelon in the bowl, the strawberry juice stains on tiny t-shirts, sippy cups, the flowers in the lush gardens of dear ones. it invites me to pause, to remember, to have a very personal inward moment.

color does that.

which must be why – at a time when most of my shoes are black – boots, sandals, sport clogs, flipflops – i really love wearing my girl’s old pink converse hightops abandoned in her closet upstairs. circa 2006 maybe, they always make me smile to have them on my feet, they always make me think of her, they are my happy sneakers.

though if someone asked me my favorite color (i would respond green), these pinks are most definitely feel-good. curious, i looked it up.

“pink can be a sign of hope, can inspire feelings of warmth and comfort, and alleviate sadness and jealousy. pink is thought to represent unconditional love in a soft, nurturing way. it can also cultivate awareness of deep emotions and feelings, by instilling the sense that everything will be okay.”

“coral can evoke feelings of warmth, comfort, and coziness. it can also symbolize acceptance and positivity. coral’s warm hue can suggest playfulness and can indicate vitality and growth. coral’s vibrant quality can foster feelings of optimism and hope.”

it would seem these are exceptionally good days for pink and coral.

affirmingly positive, warm, nurturing. colors of movement, of forward-thinking, of not going back.

mm-hmm.

time to plant some coneflowers.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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cobalt and teal. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it was the color that stopped us. we have walked this route for years. the other day – wind blowing off the lake, waves crashing over the rocks, rain falling intermittently – we noticed the color.

the east side of the trees was iridescent. cobalt blue and teal green mixed in with the rich color of its bark. we stood in front of the trees, studying the mix of color, the tooth, the randomness. later, it took some research to discover what might – just might – be the reason for these colors: amaurodon viridis – a fungus. if that is true, we don’t know what that means for these trees. both are stricken on the side that faces the lake – the side that takes the pummeling of the wind in lake-effect storms. we’d imagine that side of the tree is decidedly moister than the side facing the afternoon sun. but – at best – even with a bit of research – we are making it all up. we aren’t tree experts or even tree knowledgers. we are, however, tree lovers. and we are tree noticers.

it did make me think of october days we spent in breckenridge, colorado. days where the town took tree-safe paint and designed an art installation on the aspens. with biodegradable water soluble colorant, social and environmental artist konstantin dimopoulos inspired the painting of the trunks of aspens blue-blue-blue drawing attention to them – stunning yellow leaves in fall against this blue – impossible to not notice – an effort to point to the importance of trees to the planet and the devastation of global deforestation. it was breathtaking.

the work of an artist is to ask questions, to prompt thought, to nudge and cause both comfort and discomfort, perhaps to elicit change. the work of an artist is not to take the easy pre-cut path. the work of an artist is to linger in not-knowing, in seeking. the work of an artist is to notice, to pay attention, to educe the notice of others, to stir up paying attention. to encourage stillness and wild interaction, both.

the trees got us to stop. and as we stood and noticed and wondered, they stood tall, knowing they had done their job.

*****

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orange sherbet and milkweed. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the orange sherbet sky is a stunning backdrop to most anything but the milkweed’s wisp is anything but most-anything.

we pass by and notice. we pay attention. texture and color and movement from the gentlest breeze – it is a photograph before it was a photograph. my job was simply to snap it.

our days are slower. we linger in not-knowing. we acknowledge time as it sneaks by. and the next week comes before any of us are ready, before it seems possible. even the milkweed is surprised.

we are learning lesson after lesson. that this is life: the things our fingertips touch, the scent on the wind, the view before us, the call of the black-capped chickadee, the ground under our feet. we are caught up by the impermanence of it all. we are realizing the folly in the gathering of stuff. we immerse in the river where there is no stratum. we feel the moment, without knowing the edges of next.

the orange sherbet sky doesn’t dawdle. color has another place to be. and as the sun drops below the horizon, the shadow-gaps fill in.

we stand with the milkweed in dusk, close, loitering in early night and, with gratitude and rest, ready for next.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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orange and red. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

neither orange nor red are my favorite colors. but as i glance down nearby, i see two pencils – one a red mechanical pencil and one an orange colored pencil. they are the closest to me and, because i am a pencil person, i’ve been using them for days.

i remember many years ago, my son mentioned that some day he would like a montblanc pen. it’s pretty funny how a little time changes things. now, i’m quite sure, he would not care to have a montblanc; as a matter of fact, i’d bet he wouldn’t care about any brand of pen – even a bic for that matter – as he rarely writes down anything on paper. it is a generation – now grown-up – sans the need of paper, sans the need of pencils, sans the need of fancy-pens.

i’m not sure how i could function without pencils or pens. or, for that matter, notebooks and pads. i am a lover of paper and all things analog, while at the same time also loving the digital world and its conveniences. (take this blog, for instance.)

i have a box of fifty colored pencils that is brand new. it was a gift, along with an adult coloring book – if you haven’t tried this activity, don’t knock it. it’s zen-like coloring pages. i haven’t yet used these new pencils because i have older pencils and didn’t want to use up the new sharp points. ahh, i am my mother’s daughter.

the other day i took out the new tin of pencils and just gazed at the array of color – all beautifully laid out in a spectrum. i suddenly realized that it might be time to try them out. because after taking this photograph of this amazingly beautiful bush out on the trail, i could see that crayola wasn’t going to touch the nuances of staghorn sumac orange and red and yellow. i could see that it would be impossible to shade all the variations – rich – prayer flags burning a place into my memory. i could see that maybe fifty won’t be enough. there’s a set of 72, of 174, of 220, even 520 – the montblanc of colored pencils.

and i could see – gazing at this sheer beauty – i guess i like orange and red a little more than i thought. there’s more to them than meets the eye.

where does nature get her pencils?

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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stripe and dot. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

and nature bent way down, furrowing her brow at her canvas. and then, after careful consideration, she took her paint pens to the swallowtail caterpillar and drew stripes – the lightest green, almost opalescent. thinking that wasn’t enough, she took out her most vibrant sunshine-yellow pen and polka-dotted in-between the stripes. she sat back and looked at her work, smiling. “yes,” she thought, “yes, this is right for the swallowtail.” she moved on to the other caterpillars waiting to get their colors.

it never ceases to amaze me what is quietly starring just in our backyard alone. when i opened the little gate to our potting stand, they took me by surprise. they stand out.

since i am a big fan of painting polka dots on rocks, i was instantly fond of the two caterpillars eating their way through the wild vegetation growing between the big flat rock-slabs on the ground. they made me think of children’s books and writing stories of two caterpillars out adventuring for the day, their obvious names “stripe” and “dot”.

i was careful not to disturb them as i tended the parsley and basil, snipping back the spindly ends. they stayed right there, not at all thrown off by my presence. i closed the gate and checked on them later. they had made little headway, maybe an inch or so. but caterpillars, so i surmise, are not in a hurry.

we think we are so brilliant, we humans. we study and research pantone matching systems and cmyk process charts. we bring home paint and fabric swatches. we mix paints on palettes thick with color.

and nature giggles – glancing at her caterpillars and butterflies, flowers and trees, canyons and mountains, sky and prairies, oceans and fishes, birds and rainbows and sunrises – knowing she will always have the upper hand. it comes naturally to her.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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flower power. [merely-a-thought monday]

the flower-power stickers adhering to my growing-up wall and my sister’s volkswagen beetle were these colors. hot pink and orange daisies, yellows, greens, vibrant and happy. and you think that some pantone or pms chart somewhere was the place they originated. but it’s not so.

this is where they came from.

and the tulips stand – proudly but not arrogantly – in their color, in their field. completely present and at ease, they open to the world, giving it all they’ve got. stand in nature and try not to be humbled…it’s impossible.

her meditations end with “and so you are”. each one.

belleruth naparstek guides you – inside and outside – to quiet. a place of presence, of ease. not trying to push out thoughts or streams of consciousness passing by, but allowing it all to flow. with practice, you can feel the roots growing under your feet, the steady breathing of awareness, calmness.

and, if you are fortunate, you are held gently, right in the middle of tulip petals, and you are reminded, once again, you are alive. “knowing in a deep place that this place is inside of you…that you are better for this…“

“and so you are.”

*****

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our living room. [two artists tuesday]

on a cold and cloudy day, the colors are muted. it is stunning. the trees have reached out and caught the snow as it flew by. the branches have held onto it, inches of white topping a narrow spectrum of greys and taupe, some tree trunks black in the dim. it’s quiet. we are – on most of the trail – first there, save for the deer and squirrels and rabbits who have left behind evidence of their passing. gorgeous. i am not cold, though the temperatures have plummeted. i feel wrapped by the woods, embraced. the paradise of winter is not on some beach somewhere. it is right here, in the middle of fallow.

it occurs to me that the colors there – in the woods – are the colors in our living room. i see now why – both – they are the colors we have chosen and why they feel so peaceful. the woods is in our living room.

i turn out all the lights – each lamp – the standing lamp, the side-table lamp, the lamp in the window nook, the lamp on the secretary – but leave on the twinkling white lights on the tall branches. they light the room just enough. they are the outside, brought in, a branch from the cherished tree in the front yard, a branch from the woods. they rise high above the old wood floors and bathe this room with starry light. they do not hold the snow as it falls any longer, but they hold memories and profound reminders of the rhythm of nature.

this is, yes, i suddenly see, why this is the palette from which our living room has evolved. it is muted, a quiescent slate from which anything can grow, in which any burst of new color blossoming is celebrated, a serene woods any time we need it.

*****

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maraschino dreams. [two artists tuesday]

and they dreamed dreams and waited in the woods…winterberries with visions of becoming maraschino cherries in their mind’s eye…actualizing with starring roles in traditional wisconsin brandy old-fashioneds…

no, no. do not put winterberries in your old-fashioned. they are completely toxic. but they are striking and unexpected. and the color in the woods is intoxicating. gorgeous red punctuating a dim brown-grey, save for a few evergreen, they are clustered beautiful.

it had been a while, what with the freezing temperatures and snow. we finally made it out to our favorite trail and it was – truly – a breath of fresh air. there is nothing quite as restorative as hiking, surrounded by stillness and the sound of wind rustling through the tops of trees. we needed to get outside. we slogged through the trails, getting a better workout than usual. the mud splashed up onto the back of our jeans, like when you ride your bike in the rain. we reveled in it.

the deer tracks went across the path. they hadn’t been there the first time we passed through. it was early in the day, early for the deer to be moving around, but we started looking through the brush.

her sweet face was staring right at us, her body blending into the scrub and trees around her. we stood, gazing at each other, none of us moving. i slowly took my phone out to capture what i knew would be hard to discern in a photograph – this deer in the woods, this shared moment of time. she didn’t move, but her tail wagged and her ears pitched forward and back, listening. i was hoping she could hear the words i whispered to her – telepathically, a little dr. doolittle-ish. her continued gaze at us, grace for our presence, her head held high, no obvious fear. unexpected.

she never left the spot while we were standing there. she took a few steps but didn’t flee, as so often happens when you start to move in the forest. we blew her a kiss and continued on, feeling lucky to have seen her and to have spent a few minutes with her.

we passed more winterberry holly as we hiked, laughing about old-fashioneds and marveling at our new deer friend in the woods.

we exited the trail, none too anxious to leave, wanting to just linger.

“sometimes,’ said pooh, ‘the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” (a.a. milne)

****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY