There are three colors that leave me breathless every time I see them. There are three colors that make me stop in the middle of the sidewalk, as if left paralyzed in the middle of my stride. There are three colors that make me lean out of my car window just to get a good picture.
First, there’s the the chocolate brown of the night sky after a rainstorm, smothered across the atmosphere as if protesting the soon-arriving black backdrop of the night. It smears behind the chapel steeples and puts an auburn tint on the moon. It leaves an erie impression on the trees and is tucked in close to the clouds, like a blanket of warmth after a midnight downpour. Once that blanket is yanked from its folds, it unveils the smoky tint of the skies and awakens the stars. Such a mocha veil leaves me breathless.
Next I am so often struck by the creamy depth of a rosy sky on a November night, casting a golden pink light onto the changing leaves shuffling along the drive. It tosses and turns with the pale yellow and the streaks of orange wrestling in the sky. It slowly sinks from a pale pink to a deep rose as the sky falls back into the waves. It leaves its creamy fingerprints across the sky, as if exploding into cotton candy fluff, dancing in the sky for only a moment. Such an explosion of elegance leaves me wondering what it feels like to paint with clouds and light.
Finally, the third color that makes me smile to myself and count myself a lucky witness is the orange glow laying across the ocean on a windy Sunday morning, as if announcing the arrival of today in royal fashion. It runs across the sky , creating a glowing break between the morning and the tossing ocean depths. It explodes, as if the sun’s expanding arms were smoothing the table of the water, creating space for such light. It casts streaks of gold and white across the earth, waking everyone up. It is the reminder that today is new, regardless of whether I’d like time to freeze or not.
What leaves you breathless?