The living room is canary yellow aside from the part that’s painted blue.
The house painted red and the grass, which is green five months and brown for seven, are surrounded by a brick wall painted orange.
My hair is white, and I’m rarely blue. How could one be blue in a house painted red and a wife shaded brown? With black tresses no less.
The sky is blue, however. It’s blue for seven months for sure, and sometimes in the remaining five. If not, it’s gray due to rain, which is what makes the grass green for five months.
The rock sidewalk that curves through summer’s green grass is black. The flowers are yellow and scarlet, for the most part.
The neighbor’s apples that fall over the wall are red.
The butterflies come in many colors, and the hummingbirds shimmer. Our peaches are peach, our oranges are orange, and our pears are green like the damp grass in summertime.
The mountains are green for much of the year and when not, it’s not their fault. It’s lack of rain in Springtime, a season associated with green, but not in these parts, pardner.
Best of all is my wife shaded brown. Heart-healthy, like chocolate.