Literature and Plantlife

I've always loved legends because they explain the world around us in exciting and thought-provoking ways. Recently, hiking in Rock Canyon, I saw a lot of my favorite Utah wildflower, the Indian paintbrush (genus Castilleja, Figwort Family), and was reminded of a children's book by Tomie dePaola called "The Legend of the Indian Paintbrush."

According to Native American legend, there once was a young boy who loved to paint.
dePaola's story begins with him...
"Many years ago, when the People traveled the Plains and lived in a circle of teepees, there was a boy who was smaller than the rest of the children in the tribe."
"The boy, who was called Little Gopher, was not without a gift of his own. From an early age, he made toy warriors from scraps of leather and pieces of wood and he loved to decorate smooth stones with the red juices from berries he found in the hills."
"When Little Gopher was older, a Dream-Vision came to him"
"A young Indian maiden and an old grandfather carrying a brush made of fine animal hairs and pots of paints"
"The grandfather spoke: 'My son, these are the tools by which you shall become great among your People. You will paint pictures of the deeds of the warriors and the visions of the shaman, and the People shall see them and remember them forever.'
"The maiden unrolled a pure white buckskin and placed it on the ground. 'Find a buckskin as white as this,' she told him. 'Keep it and one day you will paint a picture that is as pure as the colors in the evening sky.'"
The next day, he began his duties as record-keeper for his People.
He painted the sunset many times, but reserved the pure white buckskin he had found for that special moment when he would paint the evening sky.
"One night as he lay awake, he heard a voice calling to him. 'Because you have been faithful to the People and true to your gift, your shall find the colors your are seeking. Tomorrow take the white buckskin and go to the place where you watch the sun in the evening. There on the ground you will find what you need.'"
"The next evening as the sun began to go down, Little Gopher put aside his brushes and went to the top of the hill as the colors of the sunset spread across the sky."
"And there, on the ground all around him, were brushes filled with paint, each one a color of the sunset. Little Gopher began to paint quickly and surely, using one brush, then another."
"And as the colors in the sky began to fade, Little Gopher gazed at the white buckskin and he was happy. He had found the colors of the sunset. He carried his painting down to the circle of the People, leaving the brushes on the hillside."
"And the next day, when the People awoke, the hill was ablaze with color, for the brushes had taken root in the earth. And every spring from that time, the hills and meadows burst into bloom."
"And every spring, the People danced and sang the praises of Little Gopher who had painted for the People. And the People no longer called him Little Gopher, but He-Who-Brought-the-Sunset-to-the-Earth."