Notes From Madoo: Livery

Everywhere eager and tenacious

   Green is the A-over of a fine well-orchestrated garden, its most-desired and indispensable cloth-of-gold mantle, indicator of not only the garden’s fundamental health, but the success of its accomplishment as well. If the various shrubberies, trees, and perennials are not displayed to advantage, appropriately and inventively, the garden fails utterly as composition and performance, and ought to return to the very air from which it was carved. If it is to be orchestrate and harmonious, a failure of any part will fray the whole and must promptly be amended. One might say that immediately is always too late an opportunity to do so. It is, all things considered, but a necklace dependent on clasp and string.
    This green has luster and variation and density far superior to damp floral fireworks that satisfy for an awfully brief moment, then fade, falter, and fall into graceless afterthoughts as opposed to, say, the sudden spill of gingko leaves in the autumn making Persian the carpet of the grass. And young greens publish carmines, oranges, fawns, primroses — and later replicate the same hues in autumn.
    The more mature of the greens will have been exhibiting an underground of colors — grays, browns, even blacks, blues, purples pulsing through their virid skins. The largeness of the palette has been available to them: viridian, Hooker’s Green, cadmium greens pale and deep, a certain Venetian green and that Habsburg green all decorators try to emulate. And can’t. One needs exalted ceilings for that and castle light and out-and-out madness.
    Green needs touches of red of course, black and brown, needs grounding and body. If you want this green you want durability, power, vitality, and all of green’s reposes, shadows and venturings, its renewal and youth, its age and provender for the eye. It is a cushion for sight and  a referendum for Eden, solace and tranquillity.
    The greatest earthly beast dines on it and follows it on exhausting treks from water hole to water hole. The color of life. The color of this planet. The product of a scant few inches of supportive soil, so thin it might be peeled from its substrate like wallpaper.
    It begins to colonize bare rock as lichen or primitive moss, both of which will chew at the stone. Green will quickly lay hold of your rocker, your bench, your fence.
    Everywhere eager and tenacious, it will lay siege to every crack in path and terrace and be called weeds although all, really, have use.
    The underside of green foliage is an entirely other nation of color and feel, hue and sensation, and will of a sudden flash in the breeze.
    Think of aspens and cottonwoods in the blue blue air.