Lador Day Weekend, we’re all home Sunday — both girls and myself — and I followed in the family tradition instilled by my father: painting the house. Our previous house was cedar shingled, with paint only on the window trim. That house had many windows, so, most falls, I painted some of the trim or old storm windows, always the same exterior deep blue teal.
My daughter, when she was three, called this Mama velvet-tealing, a neat way of turning a noun into a verb.
While gray is a traditional New England choice for steps, I had picked up a remainder can of exterior floor paint for a mural on the barn door. When I opened it up, the paint sparkled the glossy richness of spring dandelions.
No, the girls said.
Yes, I said.
Later, when the new neighbors walked over for cake, they asked how long the steps had been so brilliant. Since today, said my older daughter.
Once again, I find myself wildly painting. Next, a deep yammish orange for the upstairs floors. Color, the consolation of fall.
…What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow….