My name is…a secret, at the moment. But I can tell you other things about myself. I am the gardener’s daughter. I have lived all my life on Lord Ives estate, wandering about the gardens with my father.
Perhaps this is why I was chosen to write about colors today. How I love them! The goldenrods, sunny susans, pink ladyslocks, gladiolas of every color, red roses, purple asters, blue speedwell, peonies and petunias, orange firehocks, burgundy pansies, violets, and every other flower under my father’s care have filled my life with color.
The color and sunshine go together. Every shade of every color is that much more vibrant in the sunlight. No wonder some of the flowers close up at night. I feel the same way.
Not all colors are the same, however. The colors of the flowers in the garden make me feel safe and happy, but the red and gray of Lord Ives and his men are a different matter entirely. As much as my father tried to protect me, I have seen the things done by our evil lord. I have seen men beaten and whipped. I saw one man killed. His gray face and his red blood blended with the gray and red of Lord Ives robe. I hate those colors.
But the red roses and the gray stones of my father’s garden are good colors. Here, I am perfectly happy in my father’s love. Here, I am safe. And I only wish all the world could see the colors as I see them.