Red is the color of emotion. Blushing cheeks, a reddening, angry face. But when no remorse is attached, sometimes, redness is the color of humor.
My daughter has abandoned her gardens for the summer. The tomato plants are turning a bleary yellow and quickly ending their production of "baby 'matoes." The herbs are burning. The onions aren't quite ready.
But the strawberries are going nuts. Not that I've had the opportunity to taste them.
I've lost count of the mornings when, watering our plants, our little gardener disappears around a bush, returning with red dripping down her chin. On a really good morning, her cheeks, chin and fingers are covered in strawberry juice, as if she'd gotten ahold of her mother's makeup for the very first time.
And is red the color of guilt, of knowing she's been caught in the act? No. It's the color of pride in her work.