Some meteorological, astrological or extremely wiggy situation was causing our sky to be a subtle orangy, sepia tone. Maybe it was the extremely low cloud cover or an aurora borealis event (highly unlikely but not impossible) or our "warm-up" from below zero to +20, but whatever the case, a time-exposure on the camera concentrated the effect and squished it into an intensified gravure.
Then over at the Falls it looked like the pastel aisle at Target. With the creamy birds egg sherbet of the ice flow blending into the melon of the mercury-vapor lights, it didn't really need an orange sky wash, but it makes for a nice parfait. But what do you do for curtains?
Staying with a muted palette, this is the view from the cockpit of a 1965 Plymouth Barracuda. I'm not that big on cars but we happened to be at a car dealer making a deal with the devil or his ilk and you couldn't help but notice the Barracuda. Why can't we just get a car this color anymore instead of something that looks like bruised meat with a color name that didn't exist in the last model year?
Not brown, not gold, not pretentious, just an honorable earthy color with a contrasting interior. As opposed to, say, our white Buick station wagon with the fake wood side panels (i.e. faded brown woodgrain contact paper) with chrome trim of course, accented (?) with a (prepare for gagging) Royal Blue interior. They had to put wire wheel covers on it to draw the attention off of the color scheme and keep your head from reflexively shaking, no, no, no.
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