Sitting in the middle of a valley in the wilds of a South African valley, there are two colours in evidence.

Well, perhaps there are more, if I look carefully, for there is green in a hundred different shades, from lime to khaki, grey to emerald, olive to jade. And on that rocky outcrop in the corner of the valley there is a wash of pink. Tiny, individual flowers shimmer in masses that carpet the valley floor. The valley itself is not green either, now I come to look at it. It is brown – dry grass, dusty rocks, dead trees, lying horizontal where they fell. It is a neutral colour – hardly noticeable in the vibrant colours that soar above it.

But there is one colour that covers all others, whether shades of green, brown or vibrant pink. One colour that spreads over all.

Blue.

A cloudless, single tone, vibrant blue. Stretching from horizon to horizon in any direction you look, the dome of sky is without blemish. Enormous, generous, splendid. Words cannot describe it adequately, no matter how many are used.

Now and again it is blemished by a black speck – a jackal buzzard, a black crow or a raven soars high, rising on thermals unseen by the naked eye. They sweep across the blue, searching, searching for a tasty meal on the ground, only to pass and leave the blue in its pristine state before their presence streaked across the unbroken expanse.

I am awed by the depth of colour; by the infinite size; by the ease on the eye. What a God to choose blue to surround His world. It’s a restful colour. Toned with green and the dusty brown of the veld it summons peace and calm.

The sky is huge. I am small. But I know my God knows me and I know Him, for the evidence of His presence surrounds me in colour. And I know I am loved.

This may have been an exercise in adjectives – but nothing changes that final fact. I am loved.