we recently saw a car of this color. it was a small vehicle, so it wasn’t an extraordinarily loud splash of chartreuse, but it was bracing nonetheless. i’m pretty sure this person has zero difficulty finding their car in a parking lot. kind of like people with hot pink rollie bags or wild print suitcases – as these bags come down the baggage claim ramp onto the carousel – along with hundreds of indistinguishable black suitcases – the owner happily swaggers up to the conveyor and – without a single doubt – claims their bag. maybe the owner of this car has a rollie bag like that.

no matter what, i remembered seeing this vehicle and maybe that was the point.

littlebabyscion is kind of a car like that. it is different and sticks out. not because it is fancy, not because it has any – really, ANY – bells and whistles. but because it looks different. despite the fact that it is black – i could have gotten it in copper or various other colors – it has a personality unlike other vehicles i have owned or driven. as this vehicle ages and rapidly approaches the 300,000 mile mark, i have some anticipatory grief about its tenure in our life.

big red – our 1998 ford f150 – is big, guzzles gas and doesn’t really zip around town in the same way as LBS. one has to be ever-conscious of its size, particularly in parking lots. one has to be ever-conscious of its lumbering, particularly when crossing traffic or entering highway on-ramps. zero to sixty is not its forte, so we allow a lot more space and time. big red’s personality is a bit cumbersome, a bit ungainly, but well-loved nonetheless, though every now and then it painfully surprises us with some of its 1998 parts parting ways.

even as we know we are in no position whatsoever, we find ourselves pondering what might be next. and that brings me to chartreuse.

as two artists we have always poked at the envelope. we’ll wear jeans and boots when no one else will. we’ll ride the edges of economics when most would shudder to even skirt them. we’d rather have a carried-in pop-up dinner on a trail than dine in haute cuisine. it’s a way of life to be vulnerable.

i stopped under the tree out on the trail, reveling in the color of its needles against the sky. it felt like spring – like an early march day – with only vests on instead of coats, my gloves carried in my pockets.

in the middle of the chaos that is this country right now, it felt good to breathe in some fresh air – damp with melting ice, on the edge of brisk but not quite there. it felt rejuvenating – this color. it felt hopeful.

we came home from the trail and listened to a podcast, watched a couple of updated news videos. i could feel the tiny vibration in my chest start back up again. we shook our heads at the impunity of this country’s leaders. i could feel tears welling up.

i opened my phone to look at photos i had taken on the trail, out in the forest, to look at this photograph.

and i reached out and tightly held hands with chartreuse – not just the color, but the whole notion of it.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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