The Colors of the Land

Updated: Dec 21, 2020

A while back, I did a post on San Francisco and how moved I was by all of the "magic" of the place. Well, as some of you know, I've just returned from a brief weekend away in Palm Springs, CA and I thought I'd bring you in on that too.



Close your eyes...you're in an antiques shop. The kind where you can stare into the same corner of treasures for ten minutes. Stand another ten minutes in the same spot, staring the same way, you see another ten more secret items that hold stories so. unique. It's tantalizing. You want to hold the pieces, just so they share some of those stories with you. You want to feel the emotions of the previous owners, feel their memories and smell their lingering perfume.


There, up on the wall, leaning on a mid century modern wooden shelf, partially hidden by an old phone, and striped red and blue blown glass decor, wrapped in a dusty white washed wooden frame...the painting. You wouldn't have noticed it if you weren't looking. It's not quite so large as to be a strong presence. You carefully lift it away to take a better look. It's much heavier than you'd have expected. Creamsicles, cherry soda float, pistachios, the clearest powder blue sky, white sand so light it blows like a cloud of smoke. No, that isn't the scene of the painting. It's the colors.



Suddenly, you're completely surrounded, like a glass room in the middle of this desert. It's the desert of beauty. The land has soaked up and saved and treasured every ounce of rain that fell. It holds it so tightly that those drops turn into jewels of the land. The cactus speckled, powder dusty land boasts it's pistachio gems proudly. They protect and revitalize the land. Here and there they spout crimson red rubies of there own.



As the sun rises, and gently taps the foreheads of the plants, it breathes a sigh of relief to see an old friend. The love between the sun and the sky and the peeks of these guarding mountains, emanate an orange and cherry red glow so soft and so excited. "Hush", they whisper. The land is not yet awake. "Shhhh", the wind blows, gently giving the plants a shake. Wisps of the dusty sand, pick up and float around, as the soft ashy white bunnies gently awaken without a sound. Now, the sun rises, stretching out her bright white and yellow arms, hugging her friends down below with a very welcome glow. The cold of the night scurries away, leaving an ever so slight blue shadow. It runs and hides in the mountain ridges until the blue of night reigns again.


You stand surrounded by these friends, the colors of this land. All painted into a living memory, you hold preciously in your hands. A painting is just that, a memory, of a feeling, of a time. You bring the painting home with you, keeping it's story safe. But now every morning you wake, and bask in that same creamsicle and cherry float glow.



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