Green is the color of my true love’s eyes in certain light. It is the hue I think of when I hear the word July. Green tugs at the corners of my vision as I pass by windows in air-conditioned rooms, beckoning me outside. It sits up high in the bathroom, tendrils dangling. Along the path leading to the river, green is a long corridor that unfolds as I move through it; as soon as I get to the end, another passage springs forth at my feet. Green is a ragged entryway to the park where my love and I amble and a bed for deer and people sometimes, too. A tarp, a twig, and a trellis are all green (or intended for green purposes). My neighbor’s fence is collapsing under a cascade of green, and green is everywhere. Sometimes I will bring a bit of green in from outside and put it in a vase. I will wait until it fades to yellow and then toss it back to the world it came from. Lakeside, light slashes between weeds, infusing their green with gold. I love a little blue mixed with green, like the dark walls of my bedroom. I love to wake up, see green, and feel calm.
Green has infiltrated almost every picture I’ve made in recent memory. Sometimes it dominates the frame, while other times, it’s merely a dash, a soft wash, or a backdrop. Regardless of how it appears, I find green’s presence soothing and animating, like a deep inhale. I imagine what it would be like to live on a planet devoid of green, and it fills my chest with lead.
I feel fortunate to live in a place with so many green spaces. Such areas are not always readily available or accessible to everyone, especially in urban settings. Years ago, when I lived in London, I distinctly remember being unable to see a single tree from our flat, no matter how far I craned my neck out the window. Occasionally, a lone leaf or few would float past, and I would think, “Where are you coming from?” The nearest tree was down and around the block in a churchyard—I assumed this was their origin. The building opposite our flat had a rooftop terrace with what appeared to be some foliage, but I always suspected it was fake because it never changed. Still, it was a dab of green in an otherwise drab but cool part of the city where any semblance of wilderness was a short bus or Tube ride away.
Now green is rampant everywhere I turn. Here are a few pictures, taken over the last couple of weeks, that speak to its unyielding and quiet presence. Together they compose a little ode to green and its midsummer tones (as depicted on Kodak film) before August sets in and everything lush starts to fade. 𓇢𓆸
All pictures were made in either St. Paul, Minnesota or northwestern Wisconsin. July 2023.
This is so beautiful 😍
So beautiful! Similar to you, I’m noticing that most of my pictures tend to have some form of green around, forest green is always soothing to find in the city 💕