It’s natural and organic and rough. It’s old and worn and used. It’s dirty and dull and messy.
It’s the mighty trunks of giants in the forest, standing firm for centuries. It’s the thick, warm fur of a bear as he lumbers through the trees. It’s the feathers of the sparrow as she flits through the sky with lightning speed. It’s the horse’s hair, shiny and smooth, tail flicking through the air. It’s the slippery, messy mud that lines the river bank. It’s the jagged, imposing rock formations as they tower high above forming canyon walls. It’s the dirt underfoot, the very earth we walk on, giving life to the plants.
It’s a well-worn, faded leather jacket, cracked with age. It’s the wood of the acoustic guitar slung across his back. It’s a tough old pair of boots, that have tramped over miles and miles outside. It’s the discoloured pages of a photo album, hiding memories of the past. It’s the old furniture in your parents house, the table and chairs you dined at for years. It’s a long mane of hair with a million shades in it, catching in the sunlight. It’s a thousand shades of skin all over the world, showing every culture and country.
It’s a pool of melted chocolate, sticky and sweet on your fingers. It’s roasted coffee beans, waiting to be ground and brewed. It’s the potatoes waiting to be peeled, earth still clinging to their skins. It’s the hairy shell of the coconut, hanging high in the tree, before it falls and cracks open. It’s a tray of cookies straight out the oven, warm and soft and sweet. It’s a freshly made cup of tea, comforting and familiar. It’s the dark, smooth rum, swirling as it pours into the glass.
It’s the autumn leaves as they coat the forest floor, crunching underfoot. It’s deep, dark eyes, warm with love and affection. It’s streaks of mud on a child’s face and hands, as they smile bright beneath it. It’s a timber house, tucked away high in the mountains. It’s the leather bindings on the dozens of books that line the walls inside. It’s the logs on the fire that burns in the hearth, bringing warmth and light to the room. It’s the smooth, soft hair of the dog as he pads over and flops in front of the blaze.
It’s earth, wilderness, and nature. It’s history, stability, and home.
Click here for more of the Colour series.