While Western North Dakota has been inviting, the people lovely, the industry fascinating, it has not proven, thus far, to be colorful. Ok, it has been colorful in stories people have told me and the language I have overheard as I go about my business, but it has not been colorful as in having many colors. Or, as in, having any colors besides one. Beige. I got here in October, right after the leaves had hit the ground. Those leaves have spent the last 6 months blowing around, dampened with a little snow, and crushed into dirt.
#I heart Mud
Streets, hillsides, buildings, cars, and sometimes even the sky….a murky tan. For instance, this is a picture my husband took in the national park the other day. Even the water is brown.
Now, you gotta remember that I am a North Dakota lover. I’m just getting used to the rhythm out here. The rhythm of the moment is…. monochromatic 🙂 It makes me want to wear bright red lip stick, have pots of yellow flowers all over my apartment and paint every piece of furniture an overwhelming aqua.
Unsatisfied with only pictures and descriptions of this place, my mother and sister insisted on coming to see for themselves as soon as the roads were safe. Also, with my miscarriage and not so quick recovery, I think my mom knew I could use a pick me up. So, she and my sis loaded up the minivan and showed up on my doorstep to brighten my spirits and then take me home with them for a quick breath.
When I saw them, dressed in reds and blues, my mom (after a 14 hr car ride) with bright red lipstick and a matching chunky red necklace, I realized my yearning for color might possibly be a product of my upbringing. The woman does color. Last spring she thought the flowers in her yard weren’t quite bright enough so she painted all her pots red.
We laughed about the beige, and about the cars coming out of the car wash still muddy (my mother literally took pictures of the cars leaving the car wash) and about everyone’s work clothes being, well, dull. All the while though, I think they really got the spirit of this place. The optimism, the chance for a leg up, the melting pot that is Watford. It was so nice to have them here cheering us on for a minute.
Before very long, Benj and I were in the minivan heading toward Utah with the crew.
This is when I realized how truly color deprived I have been. When we got into the mountains of Idaho I could not stop snapping terrible, blurry pictures of the trees. I kept trying to get the little creek running by the road into my pictures. I then kept texting them to my husband with captions like, Trees! Green! Whoa! haha.
I think I took about 50 pictures that all look like these.
If I can get that excited about a blur of green out my window, when spring hits Watford I think my phone might explode. I want to see the golden wheat fields and the rows of corn. I want to see the national park changing color. I want to meet all those people who have been cooped up inside. I am so looking forward to laying my eyes on the growth, the birth, the arrival of spring.
There are rumors that the rolling hills turn a beautiful green. That flowers do grow, that coats do come off and people wear color underneath them. I am waiting, patiently.
For now, I guess I’ll just have to wear one of the 6 shades of pink to red lipsticks that I brought back with me and stare at my blurry green pictures.