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Word Painting

Story ID:4412
Written by:Nancy J. Kopp (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Musings, Essays and Such
Location:Manhattan Kansas USA
Person:Nancy Kopp
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Word Painting

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 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 artistís tools. I earned Cís 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 flower at my feet. 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 Iíve seen here today. Since Iím a writer, I paint my canvas with words in every story or article I create. That wildflower lying on the seat next to meósoft as the down on a babyís head, purple as royal robes, and delicate as lace. All of these phrases describe the pretty little flower. I bring the blossom close and sniff to catch its sweet scent. I think of more phrases to capture this tiny flower for others. The artistís 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 wordsówords that articulate, emote, surge the senses, highlight emotions, and even bring a tear occasionally. Can the artist capture the movement of the tallgrass prairie with a swish of his brush? A gifted artist 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, but a strong Kansas wind can bring wave upon wave as it surges swiftly across the prairie grasses. My words flow as easily as the artistís 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, ďLife is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can.Ē I, too, am an artist, and Iíll dot my prose with colorful words as long as Iím able.


Photo: Flint Hills of Kansas