The oceans were a dreaming egg-shell blue, the countries watery pastel shades of biscuit and eau de nil and faint peach blush
(Carmel Bird, ‘Tasmanian memoir of WW2’)
With a wonderful understatement and subtlety, the jacket is the flat colour of a dried brown leaf, the girl and her lamp lightly sketched in a darker shade of umber.
(Carmel Bird, ‘A collection of Spanish stories—memoir and comment’)
With cattle and goats stripping these dunes of their spinifex cover, the soil had begun drifting years ago; and the station area had long since turned into a light orange-brown sea of soft and very heavy sand.
(T. G. H. Strehlow, Journey to Horseshoe Bend)
The memorable image of butterflies dying to become brown leaves evokes both our sense of being late to experience―of missing out―as well as the limits placed on our ability to fully comprehend experience.
(Darius Sepehri, ‘Judith Wright’s The Shadow of Fire and making the ghazal appropriate for Australia’, Southerly 76.3)
The reds and the ochres of the earth surrounding the town can seem like a vast movie set recreating a spacecraft landing in Mars, or a savage ecological blight. I feel my throat tighten with emotion. The red dirt is what our family remembers most. No matter what colour your garment was for any chosen social engagement, you came home red. The colours of this place are foremost, infernally beautiful.
(Tim Rogers, ‛Kalgoorlie’, Detours)