I will be giving birth to suns.
I will be holding forests upside down
Gently shaking soft animals from trees and burrows
Into my lap.
Isn't this fun? Contemplating what I will be doing: midwifing poetry into being, paintings into form, gardens into profusion, laughter into hilarity, tickles into giggles, spices into chai, beans into chili.
Red makes me giddy. It used to be my favorite color, now it shares the limelight with yellow. Thank Goodness I don't really have to choose one over the other! Not even in the planters, just plant both. Which reminds me, I planted dark pink wave petunias with dark purple ones. They are starting to wink open, and I am loving that combination, too. Which is a red-variation.
My first car was red. Mm, mmmmm red: my '65 Mustang. I've always liked red hearts, red dresses, skirts and earrings, and shoes. Yes, I like rubies, too. Red strawberries and raspberries and the red side of an apricot all make me drooly silly. Oh, and there is the red cherry on top of the whipped cream on top of the hotfudgesundae made with Screamin' Mimi's Strawberry ice cream!
What is happening here? I have been away from my blog too long, forgotten that this is serious business.
Red is a summertime color. I ordered a red swimming suit. I have red Crocks. My niece has what is known as "flaming red" hair, and she is an awesome softball player. My car is, surprise surprise red, as is my kayak. My dog is black and white, which goes nicely with red, which is the color of one of her collars.
Red is the color of transformation and passion. In Japanese lore, "there is no red on a madwoman's fan" a thought I loved so much that I used it to title a textile piece made from handmade paper, willow boughs and fabric. Hmmm. I wonder where that is?
Red is the color of birth, of blood. So in a way, the pulse is red. Sometimes one "sees red" in anger. I see red in meditation, in the insides of Luna's eye, on a little spot on my forearm.
Red is fire, is warmth, is searing hot. Red is sexual. Red stimulates. Red shivers and trembles. Red roars and moans, shouts.
And sometimes, the underside of a tender green leaf is red, facing down, sending all that secret red back to the Mother.