Purple Blue

Who doesn't need a big dose of blue? 

For me, it's the most startling color in the garden. 

The color of the heavens so close to the dust of the earth—pretty incredible.

Uh-oh. 

Are you saying to yourself—"Wait. That's not blue; it's purple!"

Oh, friends! Toe-may-toe ... toe-mah-toe!

Haven't you ever seen a sky so lusciously deep blue that it leaned toward purple? 

Of course you have. I'll bet you've even seen what my father-in-law calls  

"sky-blue pink" on the horizon, but you probably didn't know to call it that.

We learn something new everyday. 

This is the delicious purple-blue of Georgia Blue Speedwell.

It's widely available, and if you live nearby, I'm happy to share mine.

It's been a while since I gave you a Story Snapshot. Here's a quick one: 

 Fall Into the Blue

     Her nerves still thrummed with the energy of the concert. Joyce hated to leave the arena and return to her everyday life, but return she must. Following close behind Evan, navigating the crowded aisles was easy and she let her eyes wander over the other departing audience members. But soon the press of the crowd lifted them along with more urgency toward the doors. Joyce clung to the bend in her husband's arm, then moved to hold hands, and when the inevitable separation came, she did not allow panic to take hold. "I'll meet you outside, at the clock on the corner!" she called over her shoulder. 

     "I'll be right behind you," he assured, his voice raised but calm.

     In the crisp air outside the arena, Joyce slowed her pace as people surged past. Where's Evan? At the clock on the corner. The illuminated clock face stood tall and peaceful over departing fans. Joyce lowered her head and began to make her way across. "Excuse me. Pardon me. Just coming through..." 

   

  He sat on the sidewalk, right in the middle of the swirling throng, holding a sign: "Navy Vet. Down and Out. Need Help." Determined to reach the clock, she didn't see him in time to swirl past like the rest of the human tide. In awkward wedge heels, she tilted toward him, away from him, to the side, then inevitably, back in his direction. Joyce landed on both knees directly in front of the man, her hand on the shoulder of his heavy coat the only thing that kept her from rolling into his lap. 

     Of course time slowed to lengthen the excruciating embarrassment. The man's can of collected change rattled and threatened to spill. He lunged for it as she got one knee under herself. Then Joyce felt one of Evan's hands at her elbow and the other around her waist, his familiar cologne identifying him as her rescuer. 

    "I'm so sorry!" Joyce brushed dust from the knees of her slacks, glanced into the sitting man's face ... and gasped. His eyes! Startled and large, they pierced her through. His gaze, a dreadfully familiar vivid blue, locked on hers. 

     His voice croaked, "Joycie ... ?"