Inspiration

By Anne-Work in progress

The sun beat down on my exposed face and arms, drying the soon to be painted pebbles, perched

upon my porch. I picked up a tough rock in one hand and a delicate brush in the other, then waited for

inspiration to strike. Birds chirped and bugs crawled, but it did not come.

Inspiration is like a cat, it does what it wants and it comes when it comes. There are a few things

that can call it out of hiding, like looking at pictures or watching a movie, but the most inspiring one

of all is being in the middle of nature. That is what’s most peculiar about today. It is 60 degrees at the

end of winter, and the air is filled with smells of premature spring, but it did not come. It simply did

not make sense.

I stayed outside for a while, listening to the grasshoppers, and painted a rock a boring shade of

white. Calling out to my most artistic roots, I imaged different scenes. Nothing happened. I got up

and walked around my house. Nothing happened, so I waited until the moon came peeking over the

hills. That’s when I decided to call it a day, so I packed up my paints, covering each palette and

cleaning each unused brush to pass the time. I carefully stacked the equipment on top of my sun-

kissed arms, carrying them into my home. With a heavy heart and a setting sun, I went upstairs. I

pulled myself into bed, pushing away troubled thoughts and letting my imagination drift. That was

when inspiration struck.