I was questioning how the paint company Pratt & Lambert went about choosing the name “Maid of Orleans” for the shade of lavender that graces this house’s clapboards. It made me wonder if there was connection between light purple and Joan of Arc (the Maid of Orleans). Did the armor donned by the burned-at-the-stake seer-of-visions come in pale purple?

I searched, in vain, through the Voltaire poem La Pucelle d’Orléans. There were quite a few references to rosy cheeked women with firm bubbles and other types of “throbbing breasts” (as well as fleshy thighs), but nothing specifically lavender stood out.

I doubt the paint company’s decision had anything to do with speculation by some, including “The Lavender Locker Room” author Patricia Nell Warren, that Joan of Arc was genetically male. For sure, such a condition would be of deep interest to the gay, lesbian, bi and trans readership of “Lavender Magazine,” but I’ll eat my my paint brush if somebody can prove paint company color-namers are involved in that level of subtext.

Same Paint. Different Light.

All this thinking about exterior paint came about when the sun was setting this afternoon. Part of the house was in the shade and an another part was in the fading sunlight. The unusual light made the two sections appear to be painted with drastically different colors.

Over the years, this ability for Maid of Orleans to temporarily stop being lavender has intrigued me. Depending on the time of day and the presence of clouds or snow on the ground, the house can go from appearing pure white to deep purple or blue.

I guess that befits a paint color named after a woman who couldn’t be pigeon-holed.

When my house morphs from pale purple to baby blue, it’s just the Maid of Orleans listening to the advice of her saintly advisors and slipping into some menswear.