While looking through some old files, I found a short piece I'd written a good many years ago after seeing something that made me wish I could paint. Here it is below, unedited.
Word Painting
Out of breath and
heart pounding, I make it to the top of the hill. Tallgrass prairie spreads
before me, wildflowers springing up between the sharp blades of grass, dotting
the hillsides with bits of bold color. Not a cloud mars the intensity of a
clear azure sky. The strong breeze
ruffles my hair, and I take a deep breath, pleasure encasing my very soul. Soon,
the sun will turn to flame and begin a slow descent before the darkness of
night covers the rolling hills like a vast blanket.
Oh, to be an
artist and capture the scene God has placed before me. But a paintbrush and
canvas are useless for a person like me. I can see the spectacular display, but never
would I be able to duplicate it with an artist’s tools. I earned C’s in art
classes all through my school years, and only for effort, not as the successful
result of any assigned project.
I sigh, survey
the living prairie once more, and bend to pluck a wildflower. I twirl the
blossom between thumb and forefinger, then head to my car. The dust on the
gravel road swirls behind me as I drive, and thoughts dance through my mind.
Maybe there is a way to capture what I’ve seen here
today. Since I’m a writer, I paint my canvas with words in every story or
article I create. That flower lying on the seat next to me—soft as the down on
a baby’s head, purple as royal robes, and delicate as lace. All of these
phrases describe the pretty little blossom. I bring it close and sniff to catch
its sweet scent. I think of more phrases to capture this beauty for others. The
artist’s canvas hangs on a wall or rests on an easel for all to see, but my
words can live on, too.
The artist may
dip his brush into paint and splash it across canvas to portray the sky, while
I paint my sky with words—words that articulate, emote, surge the senses,
highlight emotions. Can the artist capture the movement of the tallgrass
prairie with a swish of his brush? A gifted painter can do so, but I can, too.
I sift through phrases in my mind until I find the ones I want. Gentle breezes cause only a slight stir in
the stiff blades of grass, but a strong Kansas
wind can bring wave upon wave as it surges
swiftly across the prairie. My words flow as easily as the artist’s brush.
I paint my words with passion and excitement. The picture emerges from the
depths of my heart. It is the gift God has given me, a gift He allows me to
share with others who read my work.
Danny Kaye, actor
and comedian, said, “Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the
paint on it you can.” I, too, am an
artist, and I’ll dot my prose with colorful words as long as I’m able.
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