Story of Mr. Elephant the painter
Mr. Elephant is a well-known painter, admired by many near and far.
The forest animals all love to invite him to paint for them. Whether it’s a small river, a banyan tree, a meadow, the morning glow, or even a few tiny pebbles by the creek, Mr. Elephant captures them all so beautifully that anyone who sees his work feels a sense of comfort.
One day, Mr. Elephant went to the riverside. He set up his easel, ready to paint a landscape. This was a corner of the forest, and he wanted to capture it on canvas, frame it beautifully, and hang it in the living room of his new home. That way, anyone who visited would feel as if they were in the forest, comfortable and happy.
Summer was coming to an end, and the corner of the forest was stunning. Although some leaves had started to fall, the forest remained lush and green, stretching out endlessly as if even all the green paint in the world couldn’t capture its vastness.
Mr. Elephant began to paint. He painted the tree trunks, the green leaves, the blue sky, the colorful birds flying in the sky, and a few white clouds. As he painted, more and more animals gathered around, quietly watching, occasionally letting out soft exclamations of admiration. These quiet yet sincere sounds, to Mr. Elephant, were like the rustling of leaves and did not disturb his work.
When everything was nearly finished, Mr. Elephant stepped back a few paces and carefully examined his work. Then, he approached the easel again, his brush hovering in mid-air. He stared at the canvas for a long time before starting to paint again. The animals thought he must be about to add something surprising, so they all watched with wide eyes, their earlier murmurs of admiration completely silenced. It was as if they had all turned into trees, motionless, focusing intently on Mr. Elephant’s painting.
Mr. Elephant started painting on the forest floor. He didn’t paint dandelions, marigolds, or even a little deer running by. Gradually, everyone realized he was painting fallen leaves.
One leaf, two leaves, three leaves, four leaves, five leaves… He painted many fallen leaves—some facing upwards, some downwards, and some sideways. Some were beautifully positioned, while others were partly hidden in the grass, only a small corner peeking out.
Someone sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of admiration; it was a sigh of slight regret, mixed with a hint of dissatisfaction and disappointment. Finally, a little squirrel couldn’t hold back and asked, “Your painting is so good, but why did you paint these fallen leaves so carefully?”
“Yes, you could have used that time to paint another, even better picture!” chimed in old Mr. Rhino.
Mr. Elephant didn’t answer, but focused on completing his last leaf, as if he were painting a crown on a king’s head, with great care.
When they didn’t get a response from Mr. Elephant, the animals felt disappointed but remained silent because they knew that an artist shouldn’t be disturbed while working.
Mr. Elephant then took a few steps back and squinted at his painting. It was indeed a good painting: the lush green forest, the blue sky, the white clouds, the colorful birds, and the golden leaves—all combined so perfectly. Nothing was missing, and everything was skillfully integrated!
Suddenly, Mr. Elephant turned to the group and smiled—a smile so innocent and kind, a stark contrast to the serious expression he had while painting.
“My friends,” Mr. Elephant finally spoke, “why don’t you like me painting fallen leaves? Do you look down on them because they are no longer alive? No! I love fallen leaves; they are remarkable. When they were just little buds, they brought us hope. When they became green leaves, they provided us with shade and nourished the trees. Many of their companions even became food for some of us.”
Hearing this, the deer, goats, and zebras all nodded in agreement.
Mr. Elephant continued, “Now that they are old, they fall from the trees to save nutrients for the tree, transforming into lifeless fallen leaves. Then, they turn into fertilizer, nourishing the trees again, becoming spring buds and summer leaves, making the trees stronger and the forest more flourishing and vibrant. How can we not be grateful to the fallen leaves?”
The first to be moved was the little squirrel. He said, “I was so silly. Why didn’t I think of this? When my friends and I play hide and seek among the green leaves, we should remember that these leaves make it all possible.”
The rhino was also touched. “Yes, now I understand why Mr. Elephant’s paintings of the forest are always so beautiful—because he is filled with love for every tree and blade of grass, even the fallen leaves.”
The deer, too, was pleased and said, “Look how beautiful the fallen leaves painted by Mr. Elephant are! That orange-yellow color among the green trees is simply gorgeous!”
The hedgehog said, “I agree with the deer. Fallen leaves are beautiful too, and they even sing. When I walk on them, they make a sound—how wonderful it is. It’s their final song for the forest, and anyone who hears it would be moved.”
Mr. Elephant laughed and said, “Mr. Hedgehog is a remarkable art critic. Unfortunately, I couldn’t capture the song of the leaves in my painting. I’ll learn to do that—to paint a song with my brush. Do you believe me?”
The animals cheered, “We believe you!”
Mr. Elephant’s painting was hung in his new living room. Whenever anyone admired it, they were always drawn to the fallen leaves. Sitting in Mr. Elephant’s living room felt just like sitting in the forest. When a gentle breeze blew in through the window, it seemed as if the leaves in the painting were moving, making a rustling sound.
Someone softly said, “Ah, I can hear the song Mr. Elephant painted with his brush…”
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
