Austin is blue, green, and sea-green

I have written and told this story in several different places, but it made me so happy that I feel I need to share it. In my Gender, Race, and Nature class, we got to write creatively. The assignment was simple: identify the three colors you would begin with to describe either the high plains or canyons of the caprock country around Lubbock, or your own home region.

I chose Austin. There were many reasons regarding this decision. The colors I chose were blue, green, and sea-green and there was a passage in The Anthropology of Turquoise that related to them. Also, there is a story behind the blue, green, and sea-green as "within every color lies a story." It was so liberating to write in class. I am feeling pulled in many directions in my life right now, and this experience pulled me further toward pursuing creative writing.
I felt so happy writing. My thoughts raced and my hand was not able to keep up with the ideas rushing my mind. I got lost within my writing during the 10-15 minutes she let us write.
If it makes me feel this way, why am I not doing it?

But I LOVE the book we are reading which prompted this discussion, and I wanted to share some thoughts. The book is The Anthropology of Turquoise by Ellen Meloy.

These passages are from "The Deeds and Sufferings of Light"

It has been shown that the words for colors enter evolving languages in this order, nearly universally: black, white, and red, then yellow and green (in either order), with green covering blue until blue comes into itself. Once blue is acquired, it eclipses green. Once named, blue pushes green into a less definite version. Green confusion is manifest in turquoise, the is-it-blue-or-is-it-green color. 12

Some days, high on the ridge, with a seventy-mile view in all directions, I feel compelled to strike up an existential query and a lotus pose, forming profoundly spiritual questions and throwing them out into the ethos.
What do I know?
What is my place in the universe?
How little do I need to have everything?
What are the obligations of living a certain geography, of narrowing the distance between eye and beauty, of making the visible world an instinct? 14

Certain places try to tell us something, or have said something we should not have missed, or are about to say something. 15

Before night falls, blue-green is the last quantum of visible light to pass through the atmosphere without scattering. 17