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Once upon a point in time, the world appeared to have a single color, or no color at all, to its inhabitants. They moved about (as so many seemed to do) relying on shades and texture. One day a little girl decided to play in the woods. Her favorite game was see-the-birds. She’d creep up to nests a watch the tiny feather-balls breathing in sleep. But being young she soon became board of birds, and began to examine the leaves. She wondered what made leaves, and if it was the same thing that made the birds. She wondered about their material, and came to the firm conclusion that it was not the same thing that bark was made of. As her eyes wandered in her tree top she noticed something else different, from leaves and birds, and leaves and bark.

The girl went home and asked her mother what made something special. Her mother kindly told her that shape and size were very good for making things unique. However, the little girl was sure that this was not the answer, and stored it in the part of her brain designated for “adult” answers. In time, the girl began to notice more special things in her world. She realized that sometimes that the same special ness could reside in object although they seemed different. Apples, and her bed shirt, and cars had something the same, as did leaves, and grass, and lima beans. Her child’s eye had unearthed a the unique quality of color. She soon realized that not everyone (including grownups) could appreciate the quality, but that those who did lived richer, fuller, more colorful lives.