July 24, 2008

The positive side of white before snow

Technically, white is not considered a color. White is the presence of all colors. Art teachers pass that information on to students often—or they should. For some it’s a difficult concept to understand.

Color is recognition of light rays reflected off objects. Different items reflect their own assorted light rays. We recognize that with our eyes and brains as color. Without light (like in a cave) there is no ray reflection, therefore no color. Only black. Black is, officially, the absence of all color.

Beginning in the spring, Angelkeep picks up points and patches of white. It shines out boldly against the renewed backdrop of greens. When spring greens darken to summer chlorophyll levels, the contrast is even greater.

Dandelion puffs of white fluff in spring provide the first white after winter snows have vanished or melted to dirty gray piles. The white seed, loathed by lawn manicure fanatics, gives joy to four-year-old children and sixty-year-young columnists.

Blowing on a ball of dandelion fuzz equals the bliss of huffing and puffing out birthday candles. Seed topped dandelion stems also provide great golf swing practice.

Besides dandelions, white appears in April and May through apple tree bloom and fat clusters on Angelkeep white lilac bushes. All are delights in white that cannot be cut and arranged in a vase. They must be observed and enjoyed outside.

Daisies continue the white which is viewable from Angelkeep’s patio swing. They were once introduced through a score of seed packets. Now they’ve spread to volunteer patches, no longer a bed, and shine white bright all about the north side of the pond.

June and July receive white flowers in abundance from Queen Anne’s lace and other unidentified “weeds.” Angelpond’s edge is overflowing with white water lily bloom where cattails have not overtaken in the shallow perimeter.

One petunia plant with white trumpets fills one patio put outnumbered by others with cascading deep purple bloom (Gwen’s fav’e).

Hot June/July days billow white from the sky. Billowy clouds dressed in vivid white, like a wedding gown edged in gold threads, almost shout to be noticed. The matrimonial pure white shapes, floating against the strong summer blue of the sky, often include trains of jet vapors.

The white images against such a blue remind me of the magnificence of fine Wedgwood china.

Another late July sighting of white spots which figuratively can take your breath away is on foot. It is an excitement anticipated every Angelkeep summer. It’s the first (and subsequent) sightings of white spotted fawns with their tiny white underside tails. They romp like lambs.

All summer long the fall clematis vines grow and intertwine, making a mass in three locations. Each is large enough to fill a bathroom. The white bloom to come is the most fragrant of all Angelkeep growth. It lasts only two or three weeks. During its white phase, which completely covers all the summer’s green leaf production, the entire acre of Angelkeep is blessed with the aroma. It is a fragrance superior to anything found in perfume bottles.

White has been singled out as representative of purity. That likely came originally from familiarity of the total and pure reflection of light rays. So seeing white is actually seeing the reflection of all light rays, all colors. White is a handsome thing—till it begins to fall as frozen flakes.

A much better image is remembering days around Memorial Day when joining the emerging white daisy bloom came the spiraea. In its natural growth it splays stems solid with white bloom like sprays from a fountain.

We think of angels as being robed in white. Perhaps it should be the documented official color for Angelkeep. Those experiencing near death often talk of seeing a white light. Perhaps it’s God’s perfect color choice.

After all, white is vanilla ice-cream, salted pop corn, Oreo centers, wedding cake frosting, Mounds filling, chip dip, chicken breasts, mayo on a B.L.T., a smile—all life essentials.

Mr. Daugherty is a Wells County resident who, along with his wife Gwen, enjoy their back yard and have named it “Angelkeep.”

by ALAN DAUGHERTY

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