The house on 51st was light green, inside and out, when my parents purchased it. We weren't sure why but chose to believe there had been a warehouse sale on green paint. Perhaps because of the monochromatic scheme, our house soon became lollipop coloured. Dad seemed to favour bright yellow for kitchens, as he had in our country kitchen in the old farmhouse. The sunshine of spring was always reflected in the walls, regardless of how much light filtered in. The living room began our occupancy with a different, brighter green and later subsided to soft beige. One bedroom sported a lovely lilac, another muted yellow. With pink fixtures, finding a matching, acceptable colour for the bathroom wasn't easy. We settled on a scrubbable tile.
The exterior took on an aqua and white sheen. Because the wooden siding was old, the paint needed reapplying, again and again. Of course, the sheds were painted to match.
Carol and I shared a room until she married. She chose an eye-popping robin's egg blue, with white trim. I felt as if I was inside an Easter egg.
Was it just nostalgia that prompted me to select the same colour for our bedroom when my husband and I lived in Peace River? The large, high-peaked room was a challenge. I finally resorted to standing on one foot (that's all there was room for), on the top of my ladder, on the piece that says, “This is not a step. Do not stand here”. It was the only way I could reach. I was home alone at the time. I could visualize myself becoming a discordant splotch on the tiled floor, with the splatter paint from my dropped container bringing the whole effect together.
Why do we choose the colours we do? The deep reds and pumpkin on the home renovation shows do not impress me. I prefer off-white, partly because it demands no decision on my part. Also, it doesn't clash with whatever collection of furniture I may have had passed on to me from relatives. During a previous move I bought the living room suite with the house. It appeared to be very much at home there, and was one less set of furnishings to move.
Prior to that move, I was in the process of upgrading my house. I stripped off two-tone green paper and wood trim. My brother filled holes and sanded. In my free time I painted and painted, off-white, of course. My rabbit helpfully participated. In the narrow hall I worked with the tray on the floor beside me. The rabbit had thoroughly investigated earlier and led me to believe she was through. She chose my moment of inattention to jump, not quite clearing the tray. Splatter and sponge painting have their appeal. She left a lovely white pattern on my gold carpet before I caught her. She washed well and had no lingering stains but of course, she too was off-white.
