There’s a song that’s stuck in my memory, from my days back in England, called ‘Green Grow The Rushes, O’. I seem to recall we sang it quite a lot at school.
Well, there’s not much green around here at the moment, not even the ‘rushes, o’ and, although I’m usually the first one to complain when it comes time to drag the lawn mower out, I wouldn’t be averse to seeing a little bit of grass growing, right about now.
Green, to me, means the smell of a fresh cut lawn, shamrocks on St. Patrick’s Day and the burgeoning buds on the trees in Spring. It means tangy limes and crunchy apples.
I want to sit under a shady leaf canopy on a hot summer day, eat green salads and cool cucumbers. I want to sip mint juleps and watch the ivy as it climbs the garden wall. I want green!