Dec 03

Rusty Copper Rains


Deep brown teeth at the top of a wooden fence, similar fences stretching horizontally down a gentle hill to the right, dust tan ground between the fences, a few black birds on the distant ground, likely hens or ducks,beyond the third row of fence is a swath of green yard, and many small buildings of dark weathered wood and dusty tan, one large red brick with bare metal chimneys, and in the distance, a teal-gilded dome, perhaps a chapel? The sky is a murky yellow-green, suggesting an early morning dim on the sun. Through the sky float two people, with skin tones that blend into the sky, except when shadowed a darker green. The woman wears a flowing blue dress with lace at the colar, and frills below the ankle-length skirt, her socks are gray-green, mostly covered by navy-gray, small-heeled shoes.She is stretched out horizontally, an arm flung out, and the man is holding her, his emerald-clad arm across her chest, leg dangling below in it’s blue pants and faint green dress shoes. His eyes are darkened in shadows, while her’s are slitted, points of light showing through. She faces forward, while his face is turned away down the hill.

      The rain-soaked brown fences draw the lines of the land, from one farmstead to another, their dusty tan-sand grounds harboring only gray-speckled hens and black-winged ducks, the grass having been pecked away long ago.

      The cattle were lead down the gently sloping hill to the pasture every morning, and none of the neighbors were at all surprised to see a blue-cloaked woman leading a couple cows by their houses, weathered-brown like the fences. Only visitors from the city, a crowded place of towering redbrick and teal-domed temples, would open their eyes in perplexed wonder, then look away, feigning knowledge of a life where fences were built out of respect, rather than resentment. The blue-cloaked women knew nothing of resentment; she loved her kind neighbors, taking care that her sandy cows not trample the farmer’s seeds. Yet she knew of wishing, of wishing life did not need to be a loyalty, that one did not have to choose family or business, country or city. Of course she never shared her wish, except with her husband. It was impossible.

     When choosing where to live, one always felt a pull towards the fields or the streets, there was no gray, no gray on her speckled chickens, no gray on banded ducks, and no gray in pursuit of one’s happiness.  


Note: This was a exercise in setting inspired by a postcard of an unknown (by me) artist. Let me know if you recongnize the painting by the description, or we can continue to wonder...