The Summer Red of Raspberries

Blog post
Published: 23.11.2010

Squeezing oranges this morning — blood-oranges.  They have a scent of raspberries about them; they taste a little like them, too.  
Is this a nostalgically indulgent fantasy, or do they really evoke that delicious mid-summer berry fruit?  Or does the colour, in some strange synesthetic twist, provoke me to think  “ah! raspberries” (or “ah! summer”)?  

We work with colour; some more than others.  When red paint is used, or ruby — the very red of raspberries — does the brooch smell (or taste) summery?  Does lime-green enamel, or peridot evoke the scent of fresh foliage, or of lime?  Topaz, or even matt gold, the smell of honey or new-mown hay?  And what of the blood-red of garnet (so different from the summer red of raspberries) does it smell of iron?

I wonder, too, about the synaesthetic role of words.  Does the blood in blood-orange smell of blood, or iron? Does orange smell of freshly squeezed oranges in the morning?  Does lemon smell lemony?  Does brown onion smell brown like sleek beautifully tanned skin with perhaps just a hint of coconut oil, or or does it make our eyes water, or make us salivate?   

Such complexity!  And Matilda doesn’t care. She has no interest in blood-oranges or the limey smell of peridot (the smell of fresh fish is another matter!)  She would rather I played with her than with these words. 


                                                             Enough words! 


About the author

Margaret West is an artist who sometimes makes jewellery; she writes: mostly poetry essays. She has exhibited widely in Australia overseas. She lives in the Blue Mountains, New South Wales, Australia.

About this blog

Touching the thingness of words the wordness of things.