At the Dallas Arboretum there are hundreds of thousands of them: petals. Spritely extensions of a flower stalk: heads up, bright, illumined by spring light, in perfect form.
But I want to tell you about one.
One petal of one tulip, on one stem.
It's shape is lovely, part spoon, part moon: the curve of champions. It holds air and scent. Warm sun and the drops of dew and rain.
Petal as rain-catcher.
This petal is part sculpture, statuesque and lean; defies gravity in its own definition of elegant posture.
First glance might tell you it is white. It is not. It's a warm white, near pale blush like a shoji screen caught by the flicker of candle or day. On a palate, white with the faintest dab of cadmium orange. Barely white.
From the base of this petal, as if left by brush stroke, a new color breaks the tradition of this white: warm pink. As if the Artist drew the loaded watercolor brush up, flattened the brush and lifted off the page at just the right moment. I want to tell you about this color:
The edges of the pink are indeterminate: a cadence of shading, a gradation impossible to capture in anything but the experience. This is real magic, this stroke of color I found on a petal of a tulip today.
It was my first miracle after lunch.
I'll make sure there are more.
But I want to tell you about one.
One petal of one tulip, on one stem.
It's shape is lovely, part spoon, part moon: the curve of champions. It holds air and scent. Warm sun and the drops of dew and rain.
Petal as rain-catcher.
This petal is part sculpture, statuesque and lean; defies gravity in its own definition of elegant posture.
First glance might tell you it is white. It is not. It's a warm white, near pale blush like a shoji screen caught by the flicker of candle or day. On a palate, white with the faintest dab of cadmium orange. Barely white.
From the base of this petal, as if left by brush stroke, a new color breaks the tradition of this white: warm pink. As if the Artist drew the loaded watercolor brush up, flattened the brush and lifted off the page at just the right moment. I want to tell you about this color:
The edges of the pink are indeterminate: a cadence of shading, a gradation impossible to capture in anything but the experience. This is real magic, this stroke of color I found on a petal of a tulip today.
It was my first miracle after lunch.
I'll make sure there are more.
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