Christina’s World

Inspired by the painting, Christina’s World, by by Andrew Wyeth

(Shown below)

The clouds looked down on Christina as she laid relaxed in the golden field of the Wyeth family farm. The sun kissed her her pale pink eyelids and cheeks. The wind playfully twirled the wisps of her brown hair which escaped her bun, and the creek which cut through the field a mile adjacent to the property babbled after the the melody she hummed.

As she stroked grass under her palm idly the grass itched back in gratitude. The leaves in the trees clasps in joyous refrain when she neared them. All of the natural world was in awe of her presence. Her beauty was defined not by the contour of her face, but by the compassion of her heart. For no object in all of creation went unnoticed by her. She knew everything by it’s personality. Like how the floorboards in the Wyeth farmhouse couldn’t help but sing in creeks and low moans as she danced along it’s planks. Or how the dust of the earth where thrilled by their moment of flight when they were kicked up into the air by the force of her skipping and sliding down the gravel road to her house. When the rain came spiraling down it expected to meet her at the bottom, to see her clapping with the lighting and roaring with the thunder. Fire itself intensified in her presence hoping to please her with its heat. This was Christina’s world. For she noticed the world, and the world noticed her in return.