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I wish I could paint. This is what I would paint.

I wish I could paint. This is what I would paint.

Last Day of Summer:  Swimming in the lake, sunning on the rocks, soaking up the last day of summer.

Imagine a woodblock painting. The lines are thick and deep in color and the figures and objects are simple. Maybe a dark brown trunk and green pine tree, blocky. A boy jumps off of a rock into the rich blue. Maybe a bird, made of just a swoosh of white, flies above the water. Just a few colors, not too much action, not too many players in the late-summer lake scene. Don’t really need a sun, the blue says it’s daytime. A rocky beach, trees everywhere, the lake sits in a valley of green and is covered in a blanket of blue. It’s home to squirrels, chipmunks, blue jays, porcupines, bears and coyotes, we are only visitors, probably temporary. Temporary that we’re there today, but temporary as a species.

I paint with the colors that snap the shot that is today, but the colors will return tomorrow as they did yesterday. For centuries, even eons back and hopefully forward as well, the colors will be back every day. Maybe I’m good enough to paint a slight gradation in the sky from a lighter blue lower down to a deeper blue towards the top to signify the lateness of the afternoon.

Kids, birds, furry friendly animals, prickly awkward ones. Suns, moons, winds, rain, snow. I’ll return soon to make sure all is well.

I wish I could paint. This is what I would paint. Is it too late to learn?

If I could paint, I would start with this.

If I could paint, I would start with this.

About The Author

Bradley

I don't like to call them excuses. They're priorities. With a handful of exceptions, we usually have a choice in our actions. They just need to be prioritized.

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