I was 10. I was tired of BLUE or RED ... I wanted something that spoke to ME.
It was the tree ... an elm ... that spread its branches . . . but that's another story. It was MY elm. And birds nested in elms. And there were so few birds other than robins and sparrows because there were no trees! I wanted to see an oriole, (or like the baseball team) a Baltimore oriole, the type that hung their nests high up in spreading elm trees.
I also like weeds and one of the small insignificant flowers that one only saw if one was short and sitting on the lawn had pale orange flowers. Later I learned it was the scarlet pimpernel ... way beyond tall people's notice or adults who thought lawns should be mown not sat on.
The orange oriole, the orange flower. The green elm, the green lawn.
There were no clothes for boys where I grew up that were orange. I wore brown and green like a druid wannabe.
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