David K. Leff, Essayist, Poet, Lecturer

Opening Up to Colorful Door Language

Front doors are speaking in colorful language to neighbors and bypassers.  They may not be gossiping juicy intimacies, but they do tell something about those living within.  We might not fully understand the dialect of various pigments, but we often hear their messages emotionally.  A bright yellow door bespeaks  energy, joy, and optimism, according to some experts.  A deep blue door is calming.

What does front door color say about a home’s inhabitants?  Perhaps nothing if those living there have never had it painted.  Maybe a great deal if the hue has been carefully chosen.  Regardless, people on the outside are bound to draw conclusions and have reactions.  Residents may even unknowingly absorb the vibe possessed by the tint of their entry.

Busy with our daily routines, we typically don’t notice door colors unless they are particularly unusual.  Start looking and you’ll find the variety of colors astounding.  The choices are rarely random.  But does apple red invariably mean a welcoming or action oriented person?  Does teal promote emotional healing and creativity?

The River's Pulse: Fifty-Two Haiku Weeks Along the Farmington (part 12: February)

February

skaters easily glide
and carve their identities
sunshine erases

bald eagles perch
on a silvery dead pine
fish scales sparkle

current softened glass
tumble through boulders and sand
long emptied bottle

waxed skunk cabbage cowls
force life through dark frozen muck
smell of carrion

A couple blocks from my home, the Farmington River is the largest tributary of the Connecticut.  From Tinker's Damn, Homebound Publications, 2013,http://homeboundpublications.com/store/books/tinkers-damn/

Same Old Grind: Where Stones Tell Stories

Stones don’t talk, but they do tell stories—at least where I live.  Throughout my hometown of Collinsville, Connecticut are many large, rounded stones with something to say to those curious and alert.  Though brought here from afar, they are so common and familiar that few residents think about them.  Regardless, they are essential to a place whose namesake Collins Company, founded in 1826, once made it the world capital of axe, machete, and edge tool manufacture, a status impossible without the ubiquitous grindstones.  They persist fifty years after the company’s 1966 closure.

I find grindstones in building foundations and stone walls, stacked as piers beneath porches, used as a base for sign and light posts, appearing in gardens and landscaping, as steps, or affixed with a plaque and used for commemorative purposes like the marker identifying a Charter Oak descendant growing beside the post office.  About fifty stones form the floor of a Riverton Inn dining room in nearby Barkhamsted.