Nature Connection: Many Shades Of Green

Ask any artist what their least favorite color to work with might be, and many will unequivocally say, “Green!” It’s not that green is so hard to mix, being a simple mix of yellow and blue, but anyone who has done it knows that the possibilities and variations are endless.

Which blue? Which yellow? What color green are they looking at? There are the soft, limey greens of early spring, the deeper greens of June and the downright tired greens of late summer. The shades of green evident in cucumbers, broccoli and cabbage are all different, never mind those of objects such as buildings and vehicles, especially boats. Oh, and there’s the color of the sea as well. No matter how many tubes of pre-mixed green one may buy, it is never right, and most artists learn to mix their greens as they learn to paint.

Green is the color of nature, of health, of envy and mold. It is the comforting color of grass beneath our feet, moss along the path, the first leaves of tomato sprouts grown on our windowsills in April. It is also a little gross when in the form of mold or algae, illness or envy. In other words, we can feel a little uncertain about how we feel about the color green. As a painter, however, it is almost impossible to avoid it.

This is true of spring as well. Everywhere I look I see the landscape greening up. Beneath the thatch of long dead marsh grasses, the shoots of this summer’s lushness are beginning to rise, poking up out of the marsh peat, their sharp little points letting us know this is serious business. The roses and bayberry bushes are quietly declaring their willingness to come out of winter dormancy, announcing it with tiny, curled-up leaves that begin in shades of maroon but which will soon be green. 

These first glimpses of green each spring are a welcome relief from the cold and gray of the winter months. The evergreens have done their part through the cold months, but we are ready for fresher, younger greens as we look forward to the warmer, riotous months ahead. As the grass greens, the spring in our steps increases.

Although birds and other wildlife can coax sustenance from a mostly gray landscape, they do so in the form of seeds, roots and buds. A twig with a bud is better than nothing, but I think of it as exciting as chewing on blubber. It will keep you from starvation but it’s not a lot to savor or look forward to. If you want to see some happiness, check out rabbits and deer discovering new grass, clover or other small plants that are now greening up. Not only does it taste better, but it’s full of juicy nutrients as well.

If we lived a hundred years ago, especially in a rural area, we wouldn’t have access to the variety of fresh fruits and vegetables we have today. People would have been outdoors digging roots and looking for shoots of edible plants. Dandelions, the weeds so many hate today, were a godsend back in the day. The roots, tender leaves, and flowers were all used as spring tonics, whether in soups, salads or drinks such as teas and wines. Wild lettuces and cresses gave winter weary palettes something sharp and fresh to enjoy, but they also were invigorating, full of vitamins and nutrients hard to find in winter diets heavy with dried meats and fishes and winter shriveled root vegetables. Although not everyone appreciates the year-round availability of broccoli and spinach, most doctors celebrate the accessibility. Good nutrition leads to better health.

The old grasses and flower stalks will soon fall apart. They will be used by some wildlife as nesting materials, but most will gradually decompose and become fodder for the next generations. 

On a recent walk I came upon a patch of cattails. The tops were fuzzy, bloated by rain and frost, torn by wind and birds looking for nesting material. Back in the day these fuzzy wands were gathered by the basketful to stuff mattresses worn and beaten down with winter wear and tear. Often fresh herbs would be scattered in as well, giving a fresher scent after months of wood fires and sleeping, often unwashed bodies. As I watched a chickadee working one of the cattail tops, I pondered the fact that I was glad to not have to gather these for my bedding. I was happy to leave them for the birds.

Marshes and fields still appear tired and worn, brown and gray, but they are rapidly being transformed by the sprouting greens below the thatch of old grass. Soon green will be the color of the day and the winter winds and cold days will be forgotten, put away until next year.

It is thought that being surrounded by green can help us feel happier, steadier. Being outdoors, in other words, is good for our health. So as spring accelerates her rate of blooming, get outside and soak up some of those new greens, even if only for a few minutes each day. If you can, get out and walk or dig in the dirt. Let the green work its magic as a natural antidepressant.

Not all green is good, of course. Some greens point to rot, while others signal sickness or jealousy. There’s another green that is neutral by nature, but which can compete with the natural greens for our attention, and that is the green of money. Money has its place, of course, but let’s not let it dictate a future without the greens of grass and trees. 

There are so many shades of green, I’m sure we can figure out the best mix. Sure, there’s blue and yellow, but a little kindness and empathy make the color green even richer.