Lady in the Silk
By Astra Crompton
I was making my way, O Reader, as was my wont, down the meandering road through the woods. Though the way was paved, not many a car drove the lanes on this particular day. The sun was dappled green through the leaves, the breeze off the sea bracing but a fine counterpoint to the high sun. I made my way by foot, with hands in pockets and in good spirits. I hadn’t a care in the world, my sights merely filled with the natural beauty a’splendor before me. Such greens! Emerald the mosses and olive the wild shrubs, verdant the new leaves and deep forest the pines – a whole palette to be filled with a thousand-thousand permutations of the colour green.
So imagine my surprise when, rounding the corner, I spied those primaries that made up the scene around. That is to say: yellow as true buttercups and blue as royal sapphires. Like a painter’s brushstroke they wound on through the roadside canopy until they pooled in the ditch, with all the rainwater and muck made all the less glorious by comparison. I was astounded, in wonderment, and all other thoughts flew from my head as I made my way off the shoulder and into the grassy ditch to investigate this foreign splash of colour in my world.