Academic journal article Hecate

Green

Academic journal article Hecate

Green

Article excerpt

A green Depression-glass butter holder sat on my Nana's table. She served jellies in this Deco-fluted glass. Cheap in its day from Woollies but made to do and pretty too. Green as 'ten green bottles hanging on the wall' fated 'to fall' in pile out the back to be collected by the bottlo man with a cart going along the street collecting mostly brown beer bottles. Greens were the brussels sprouts and boiled spinach I refused to eat. 'Greens to keep the skin clear' of pimples and white-spot marauders. My other grandmother had 1950s soft greens of freckled laminex benchtop and dresser, that went with laundry soft blues and bedroom soft pinks, in kitchens of the day to look housewifely efficient. Outside was a green wood garage-door in three panels with opaque windows, sheltering sinkers and hooks and two rods and a pushed-away rocking bear and green tin folded chairs. In the 1960s, green shucked itself into lime in pop-art and psychedelic clothing and icy-poles that ran over my fingers and left shining trails. I wore lime hipsters and rode a scooter with plastic handlebar ribbons waving. Greensleeves, Henry the Eighth's recorder lovesong to a street tart, blared through the playground as thirty seven-year-olds, in a circle, twirled in my first dances with boys. Green is the untried, the rawboys practicing by chatting-up older women, and quickstarts and come-too-fast and got-to-go. The green of the absinthe fairy swings high, showing her legs, tempting to spirit away men's money and mickey and minds when they chase the taste of her. Green as tendershoots that tickle in one place and hurt in another. …

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