Purple sun

It is not a stroke of genius in life when an eleven year old comes to inspire the very technical solution that no ex-professor could help you to articulate for over two years? All parents should know very well.
Now I can use glowing and transparent objects in 3D, and it is due to a Muse called Annie Kosh.

And purple is the colour of royalty. We all know.
Purple is the less common colour in nature. Purple is the colour of orchids, so it is associated with femineity, and receptivity. It is the colour of heliotropes, which leaves follow the sun; so purple is also associated with masculinity, and activity. Then, in human colour psychology it represents confusion at a certain level; or a perfect blend, a commonality of senses, on a opposed one.
Purple is not a spectral colour, as violet is. So in a deep hue is a colour for mystery, for the enlightenment that follows, and for the final wisdom that lays as a reward.
It is associated with creativity. There is a theory of purple auras belonging to artistic spirits. It is a spiritual colour, it represents spirituality as if it would be opposed to the forces of nature. But as purple is itself the colour of perfect blends, it represents the vibration that blends strong nature forces with intense spiritual ones.
Purple is the colour of royalty. ...And that shade of purple I like the most, the memory of the grapes hanging outside my childhood house, under the purple sun.

Purple—is fashionable twice—
This season of the year,
And when a soul perceives itself
To be an Emperor.

Emily Dickinson, 980.



...Plus:

There is a flower that Bees prefer—
And Butterflies—desire—
To gain the Purple Democrat
The Humming Bird—aspire—

And Whatsoever Insect pass—
A Honey bear away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her—capacity—

Her face be rounder than the Moon
And ruddier than the Gown
Or Orchis in the Pasture—
Or Rhododendron—worn—

She doth not wait for June—
Before the World be Green—
Her sturdy little Countenance
Against the Wind—be seen—

Contending with the Grass—
Near Kinsman to Herself—
For Privilege of Sod and Sun—
Sweet Litigants for Life—

And when the Hills be full—
And newer fashions blow—
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy—

Her Public—be the Noon—
Her Providence—the Sun—
Her Progress—by the Bee—proclaimed—
In sovereign—Swerveless Tune—

The Bravest—of the Host—
Surrendering—the last—
Nor even of Defeat—aware—
What cancelled by the Frost—

Emily Dickinson, "Purple clover". (from "Poems: Three Series, Complete", Part III, XIV).