Apathetic Thursday

As I walked up to the house, the first thing I noticed the well-trimmed grass along the path. It was a pleasant shade of green, not a light green, or a yellow green as some grass is in the habit of being, nor was it a teal or blue grass, such as a blue spruce or malachite or even verdigris. It also wasn’t a forest green color, or a pine green, but just your normal green. Yet, it wasn’t a normal green for it was intense and beautiful. But then again, wasn’t that what green was? A pulchritudinous color, evoking emotions of quietude and placidity? No brown was found on the grass at all, just as there was not any yellow, only the fine green color, almost shinning as the sun emulating off of it. It was a rich green, resplendent in color, and beautiful in every way. The lawn looked springy, a green, maybe slightly light green, but only slightly at that, caused mainly by the illumination of the morning light, springy grass which although was cold, wet and sparkling with the morning deliquescence a few hours back, was now dry and warmed by the sun. It invited you to take off your shoes and run in it, allowing it to vellicate your bare feet, the way only green grass can. Yet the green, for I could not get over the lively green, such a color rarely seen, yet it was not rarely see for one saw it diurnally, it was a green that was often seen, but rarely appreciated. The grass just called out to me, oh if I could forever capture the coruscating green grass. Not yet ambulated upon by mortals, showing the beauty of the summer day.

I ask however, that you do not misinterpret my emphasis on the color, while it is a curvilinear color, it was not just this that made the grass as haut monde as I have made it out to be. For example, the individual blades of grass and thickness of the grass also helped to create it’s intoxicating effect on my person. Grass comes in many different types of blades, as you may know, for if you are even slightly interested in grass, not so much as I perhaps, but enough so that you notice the plant as you go about your daily life, you may notice the different shapes grass can be. To elaborate, some grass is thin, attenuate, diaphanous, and cadaverous. While other grass is of more thick and pompous nature, with capacious blades. Thin blades of grass are weaker, and will easily be trampled down when walked upon, but thus was not the case with this lawn. The lawn hitherto mentioned, was of a medium nature, going to neither extreme. It was this feature, this perfection in width, that complemented the color, creating a perfect union of color and shape. Now also notable is the top of the blade of grass, some might be so inclined to call it a head, which although being easier to refer to, may not be immediately understood as to what is meant. Name notwithstanding the head of the grass, tipped and pointed, as most grass is, but not all grass. Some grass after being cut will have a ridged or flat head, and perhaps even turn brown as the life is lost from it. The fall brown, the earth brown, the brown grass turns in the winter, when the snow is not yet fallen, and the air is chill. The tips of the grass, the pointed tops, fit in so perfectly, the green heads to the green blades, all in perfect harmony and unison creating a green lawn, which I must say was absolutely indescribable. If you will allow me to elaborate, such an attempt to describe the grass, in all it’s green splendor and prepossessing, and nonpareil form would be like trying to describe a rose to a whale. If one were to make such a claim that one could describe it, would almost be enough evidence to lock him away, for you cannot describe viridescent color in the vividness that it would appear in the countryside.

As I continued down the stone path, and what a stone path! For if the grass was so amazing, this was just as prodigious. Cobblestone it was made with and slightly arched to the right as it led from the gate to porch. The ashen rocks, all smoothly cut, and placed with utmost care. The once asperous perimeter of the rocks all jaded with epoch, now establishing a perfectly smooth path, running though the green grass all the way to the house, where the path stopped abruptly at the foot of the wooden porch. …

Now the porch was large and well-built, constructed along the entire length of the front of the house, and curving around to the right. Finely planed oak boards, stained and varnished to accentuate the grain of the wood as much as possible. It stood only a foot or two off the ground, having only two steps up to it, yet its appearance was so much more as it was surrounded by a substratum of gravel, light grey in color and rough in texture. Bushes were planted in the gravel, all of evergreen nature. Spaced evenly apart and trimmed as to almost hide the porch from view, the pine green color of the bushes stood out, a much darker and richer shade than the grass, yet so beautiful. Contrasting against the light grey gravel and the oak porch. The sight looked as if it was taken from a magazine, or perhaps even a movie. It was peaceful and quiet, the oh-so-light breeze, so slight you couldn’t tell if it was really there or not. The type of breeze which when you thought it was gone, would blow back into existence, and as soon as you thought you felt it, would fade away to nothing.

The sun shone brightly as the fluffy clouds hovered in the sky. The blue sky, such a pure color, a pure blue, so light and pale, not quite to a pastel status, but bright from the shinning sun. Rich as the grass and bushes, in it’s own special way. A color so difficult to reproduce in any form, except of course to see it in nature as I was doing right then. (These colors so rich, so hard to describe, one almost wonders why I attempt to do so here.) The house’s roof was a tan red, perfectly complementing it’s white color. So pure and perfect I could not believe I had the gall to disturb such a heavenly scene with my presence.

It was a fleeting moment, as I walked those twenty feet from the gate of the yard to the foot of the porch.