Last year I painted a set of chairs an electric sort of blue, the kind you see in places like Mykonos, set against blinding white houses and sparkling water. Not exactly a New England sort of blue.  One day in early Spring of this year I woke up to our cold-climate version of a blinding white: a swirl of snow settling on all the dark trees and spindly branches.  Before it could devolve into our state color, grey, I ran outside with one of my Mykonos chairs and took a photo of it in the snow.  I still haven’t found the right spot in my house for my blue chairs.  They sit, unused, in storage.  Maybe I should put them back outside in the woods, where they can live juxtaposed against blue’s favorite color, an icy pure white, just in time for the first real snowfall of winter.