The entire menu was orange, or at least
colored orange. It was really charming, and our spirits rose to almost a
champagne pitch, though orange juice--diluted at that--was the only
beverage served. (I believe that there is a Raisin Day, also, but on
account of its horrid association with rice and bread puddings we have
let that slip by unnoticed.)
Our California color scheme is the very latest thing in decorative art.
There is nothing shrinking about us, for we come boldly forth in orange
and yellows in true cigar-ribbon style--even our motor licenses of last
year had poppies on them. Speaking of poppies, I heard the other day of
a lady who voiced her opinion in all seriousness in the paper, that Mr.
Hoover should have California poppy seeds sent to him for distribution
among the Belgians to sow over the ruins of their country. Of course
there is something in the power of suggestion, and I suppose it would
brighten up the landscape. Joedy is strong on the color idea. We had a
neighbor who had a terrible attack of jaundice, which turned her the
color of a daffodil. I was saying what a pity it was, then Joedy
observed: "Well, Muvs, I think she makes a nice bright spot of color!"
There is a road leading toward the San Fernando Valley, with fruit
stalls on both sides, very gay with oranges, grape-fruit, and lemons.
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