The old house next door has been getting fixed up. It's common in my neighborhood to hear skill-saws and belt sanders, the giving of new life to what has been neglected for 40 or 50 years.
I'm often surprised how someone can see the potential in such run-down structures. Features like window trim or old wood siding with just a bit of repair can suddenly feel unique and valuable. How clever of that new owner. I wonder how I overlooked it.
These renovations get new paint, and often a new color. It's as if they've a new role among the faded tones of nature to alert the eye in the landscape. As one who studies and paints the tones of the landscape I want to understand colors as they appear and not as they are phrased. Grass and trees are green, yes, and the sky is blue. However, I'm often shocked when I mix my colors at how much grey is in that green and pink within that blue. I am drawn to mornings, when the sky is faded before the day has even begun.
The world's symphony of color is muted if you look closely. The Texas sun will fade those fresh coats of paint in a matter of a couple years. By then they'll be just right.