a color story: the neighborhood pond

Passenger side. Listening to the driver. One minute to our destination. The neighborhood pond appeared in our peripherals- a close indicator of home. The pond was there but it wasn't the pond; it transformed into something else. The driver, the one paying his fair share of the taxes commented how cumbersome it would be to manage a pond like that. The tone of his voice hindered between "neighbor pond" envy and maintenance sorrow. 

Regardless of the prompts, we both looked to our right and took in the colors that the pond brought out. For a moment, the pond stopped our relative time - it demanded our attention. The pond left a lingering impression.

Where to begin? When one "brewed" a Nespresso, crème appeared at the very top. At least for me, I enjoyed the foamy texture countering the bitter espresso; the premium was more so in the foam rather than the brand. Likewise, foam floated on this pond- I doubt a bath foam party ensued without my invitation. Unlike the Nespresso's "trademark" beige foam, swirls of warm colors made up the interesting texture. I recalled seeing blue, purple, green, and grey but my fatigue eyes could be demonstrating an illusion. I wondered what my father saw. 

I pondered about the convenient derivative... 

Blue, purple, green, grey. A color combination that could be mistaken for impressionistic taste. I couldn't help but make a connection to Claude Monet's paintings and his ponds at Giverny (I regretted not attending this trip). Were Monet's color choices an aesthetic or a direct response from his color discoveries at his gardens? Did magical foams appeared in his Giverny ponds? If so, was this Monet's trademark secret -not an interpretation of nature, but retelling the odd colors of nature?

Was Monet just a vehicle to the true artist, mother nature? I pondered about the convenient derivative...

Back home, I decided to skip out the nightly walk - my brother wanted his time on the neighborhood streets. The art of walking has subtle rules, after all. I wondered if he, too, noticed the lingering colors on the pond. Maybe, it was all an illusion.