“Even in winter, it shall be green in my heart.” – Frederic Chopin

A few years ago, I wrote:
“Green is the root of my existence. It’s what brings me back to life whenever I grow tired of uprooting. I find it both encouraging and elegant.”

I truly think, feel, and live out this declaration. The color has held me in its embrace for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest childhood memories is of my dad asking me what my favorite color was, only to make everyone at home burst into serene laughter when I said: “zereno,” which in my mother tongue is pronounced “zeleno” (Cyrillic: зелено), meaning green.

Like animals and nature, green has been my companion for most of my life. It became so ingrained in me that, at some point, I stopped noticing how often it appears: in my wardrobe, my food, my home decorations, my travel photos, the kitchen cabinet doors, on my nails, and, mostly, in my mind and heart.

Conservatory and Botanical Garden Geneva, April 2023

Throughout the years, I’ve come across powerful quotes about the color green. It has inspired countless authors, designers, artists, poets, musicians, and environmental activists, helping them come closer to the truth and back home, just as it helped me.

I spent a large portion of my summers at the village house where my father was born. Made of stone, with wooden doors and floors, and a red-brick roof, it stood proudly as if it were part of the nature around it. About two hundred meters from the entrance, there was a goalpost-like structure with my very own swing hanging from it. My father made it from wood, ropes, and jade-green hose pieces that covered the firm, round laths securing the seat.

It was my favorite place to spend time alone, watching my dad work in the yard and observing the afternoon play of eagles flying in circles high above me. There were moments when my childlike imagination would fill me with fear, wondering if an eagle might notice me and snatch me away. In those moments, I would close my eyes, swing higher until my legs were in the air, then open my eyes and stare at the greenery around me, feeling a big wave of calm wash over me.

A vast valley stretched out before me, interrupted only by a double row of wild almond trees, with a wide meadow behind me offering a view of Bigler—a massive hill, as gorgeous and as green as a giant emerald stone.
That image, etched in my memory, has become a sanctuary I long for whenever I feel longing for a place that feels like home.
Whenever I feel suffocated by the city’s pollution, noise, and unrest, I feel an overwhelming urge to return to that moment, to hear the eagle’s cry echo in the grand, green silence.
The closest I’ve come to that feeling in recent times was when I lay under a large tree and read Psalm 23. The second time was when I stood beneath the grandiose giant sequoia in Jardin Anglais in Geneva, and I felt that same calm wash over me after more than twenty years.

Giant Sequoia in Jardin Anglais, Geneva

I could write pages about how and why I love green. Instead, I invite you to dedicate some time to it the next time you notice it. Instead of walking around with your phone glued to your hands, instead of worrying about your manager’s note or that unsent email, just stop and take in a new perspective. A greener one. Maybe, just maybe, if you allow yourself to forget the frenzy of the world, you, too, like me, after so many years, will feel at home—like you did when you were a child.

Song of the day: The Seed – Aurora

Read of the day: Psalm 23